The Meaning of Ten Percent
by Total Absolutism
Summary: (AU) What does it mean to desire? What does it mean to possess? More forces are at work in Taylor Hebert's world than she ever imagined. How will she cope when forces beyond mere mortality arise in the most unlikely of places; Her home town. What happens when a demon declares ownership over the Earth touched by the Worm?
1. (1-1) Just Bugs

I own very little. Not Worm. Nor any of my other inspirations, as wonderful as that world might have been. But I do own this story, or close enough. And now you do too.

* * *

**Just Bugs**

* * *

As a seven-foot tall man-dragon hurtled towards the roof upon which she was currently situated, Taylor Hebert was mentally reviewing her situation. The outlook was rather bleak. Even if Lung had not been on fire at that very moment, she was fairly sure he'd actually grown some sort of armoured translucent membrane over his eyes. Idly, she felt irritated by the fact that none of the information she'd seen on him online had mentioned his powers were quite so... Adaptive. Other parts of her criticized her choices leading up to and encompassing this moment. The leader of the ABB was, according to whispered urban legend, sufficiently powerful to go toe to toe with one of the Big Three. She'd taken him on with nothing but an EpiPen, a bag of chalk dust, a miniature cannister of pepper spray and her bugs.

Bugs. That was the problem, wasn't it. Alexandria, female cape. Invulnerable flying brick. Glory Girl, female cape. Well, wouldn't you know it? Invulnerable flying brick. Lady Photon, female cape. Flying laser brick. Narwhal, extremely female cape. Cheating flying telekinetic brick. Even Shadow Stalker, minor female cape native to the Bay had some sort intangibility... Thing. Then there was Taylor. With her bugs. Yay. Lung's flight path towards her was almost in slow motion, she though, before realizing this was just adrenaline. That explained why she felt as if she was moving through treacle. It also meant that her oncoming flaming death was certainly taking its sweet time. She got to experience every blissful millisecond of her runaway thought processes' rampant snark. Joy and glee.

This plan had been, on the whole, decidedly stupid. But she'd just felt so... Good. Invincible. So much so that, well, she'd rather forgotten that she... Wasn't. In any fashion. The light burns she'd already managed to sustain said as much. For some reason she'd thought she could lead him away, distract him, using her swarm. Aggravate him enough without actually hurting him to keep his strength lower until a real hero showed up. It had gone to hell rather quickly, though. The melted tarmac of the street certainly looked the part. Lung's actual flaming breath seemed to have some interesting properties that were making it stick to the surroundings, providing him ample fuel for his pyrokinetic power. In other circumstances, she might have been fascinated by the interaction of abilities at play there.

* * *

_Look back..._

* * *

Ever since the Incident, things had calmed down at school. For a certain value of calm. Taylor had felt numb to any of the bullying attempts since then; And it seemed that her subsequent lack of reactions had dulled any enjoyment her tormentors had felt. Once or twice she thought she'd seen looks on Emma's face that were... Angry? That had to be it. The only other option was betrayed. She didn't see why the redheaded girl would feel that way towards her. If anything, the tables out to have been turned in that regard. However, despite her feelings towards them; Or, perhaps, because of them, she'd been abandoned. Folding in on herself had left her isolated, certainly, but it had also kept her safe from them thus far. To someone else's expense.

Until this morning. She didn't know why she'd done it, even now. Nobody had helped her. Really, though, the answer shone through rather clearly. That was exactly why. Not a single soul had helped her when she'd needed it. How could she go through with her plans if she couldn't even stand up to a bully like Sophia? They'd cornered a newer boy; A shy young man with black hair and an especially biblical name that she could never manage to recall on the first try. Even now it escaped her. He seemed to have trouble with English, which was slightly interesting to her given he appeared entirely Caucasian. Then again, such thoughts were fairly judgemental. His accent was Germanic, in any case, which made enough sense to her. They had been teasing him... No, that word was far too innocent.

They'd been tearing into him. Some words he just couldn't get right no matter how hard he tried and getting upset just made it even worse. They'd had to give presentations in Mr. Gladly's class last week and he'd had to give up halfway through because he'd started lapsing into his native language from sheer nervousness. Taylor had felt sorry for him. Emma and Sophia had found it hilarious. Even worse, they'd ambushed him right beside the toilets. So she'd come across them surrounding this pale boy, who looked so much shorter than them as he huddled between the trio, as he had his legs crossed in an uncomfortable fashion. He was trying to ask them, quite politely, to move aside so he could go to the bathroom. They refused. Sophia looked a lot stronger than him, at the very least, while Emma and Madison made decent blockers.

Together they'd been taunting him in turns. Any time he said something they said it back, mocking both his accent and pronunciation. He'd been almost in tears, red-faced from the strain. She'd heard Madison saying he looked like he was about to wet himself while she was walking over. Sophia had been in the middle of saying something about how it was "Fitting for a crybaby". Then Taylor had tapped her on the shoulder and, as the darker-skinned girl had faced her with evident surprise written all over her stupid, smug, jock face...

She'd slapped Sophia. Hard. Then, as she straightened up and looked like she was about to explode, Taylor had done it again. Backhand. At that point she'd been sure that the track star was about to completely flip and murder her, but one of the teachers had been passing by. Who had it been... Huh. She'd forgotten. A man, certainly. Was it... Right, of course. Mr. Quinlan, math. He'd seen it, of course. The boy she'd acted to protect had fled into the bathroom. She didn't blame him. When Mr. Quinlan had demanded they come with him to the Principal's office... That was it, really. Knowing she'd take the blame in the end, no matter what she did, Taylor had just turned on her heel and walked out. Ignoring the calls and jeers from her teacher and the trio. Just walking out.

* * *

_Walk forward..._

* * *

And that had lead her here, in the end. Despite the fact that she was going to be punished the next day, probably called before the Principal with her father in tow, she'd decided there would be no more waiting. Even with her costume's unfinished state she'd donned it and gone out immediately. Just a short patrol. Maybe stop a mugger or something. Baby steps. A bit of practice before she tried to go see the PRT. The self-confidence boost she'd got from striking Sophia like that had been radiating up her arm the entire time. Ideally she'd have preferred Emma, but the largest of the three had been in the middle. Her hand still felt warm.

Oh, wait. Nevermind. That was Lung. There he was. She snapped out of the twilight of her memory back into the frozen moment of her imminent doom. Maybe ten feet away, closing fast. Her eyes flickered shut, not wanting to see the incoming claws that were about to rend her limb from limb. She was mid-stride, having attempted to bolt for the fire escape as he'd started his jump. But of course Taylor hadn't even made it a single step. The last thought that crossed her mind was her father. He'd never know what had happened to her. That stung deeper than the impending gang leader ever could.

At which point her thought process was interrupted by her cheek meeting gravel. She hadn't even noticed herself tipping. Ow ow ow ow that_really _stung! Taylor's eyes snapped open, her hold on the remaining swarm telling her Lung had moved away from her. Rather violently, in fact. Pushing herself upright with a wince, she forced herself to stand so she could see. The sight was rather striking. A furrow gouged into the road by the leader of the Azn Bad Boys plowing into it just as fast and hard as he'd leapt at her. Made worse by the molten state of the tarmac. Lung was pulling himself upright with a furious roar, flicking molten asphalt off his scales. Finally, standing on the edge of the roof, was her savior.

She was a little disappointed, actually. He looked so... Normal. The gloves were huge, thick leather, and the boots had a similar scale to them that made her want to say 'fireman'. A pair of faded blue jeans along with a black hoodie, pulled down. What looked like a pair of ABB bandanas adorned his head; One around his mouth and the other being worn more traditionally. Whoever they were, they hadn't intended to be fighting when they came out... But then the gloves threw a monkey wrench right into that theory. They also had one foot extended, which indicated to her that they had apparently kicked Lung.

Oh my. There was boot print in melted rubber on Lung's face. This person _had_ kicked him. _In the face._ Taylor suddenly felt a lot less safe than she had just a second before that realization. That wouldn't hurt him, not like this. Just piss him off.

"Run."

As they adopted a fighting stance, one hand forward with palm upraised and the other tight into their body with fist balled, it took Taylor a moment to realize that they had spoken. To her, no less.

"Please, _run!_ I can't keep him here for more than thirty-nine seconds and you _need_ to reach a phone booth before then! The PRT might be on their way, but I don't know if they realize the fires were Lung! So _**hurry!**_"

The last word was given extra urgency as said gang leader started sprinting over. He wasn't about to try leaping again so soon, especially not at a Brute of any description. Without any real aerial mobility they'd just kick him again. But he could still move fast. Really fast. Terrifyingly fast. Taylor was halfway to the edge of the rooftop before she even realized she'd started running. Her rescuer stepped off the edge almost nonchalantly, and a moment later she heard a tremendous impact. Crunching steel and metal along with a bestial roar of fury. Followed by a matching roar of fire.

Had she just abandoned a cape to die? That was all she could think as she hustled down the fire escape faster than she'd ever thought possible. Thirty-nine seconds didn't sound like any amount of time at all. As she hit the ground she cursed herself, drawing on her power and feeling for every bug she could grab. Furious that she hadn't done this sooner, Taylor forced them out into the streets and drove them to search for phone booths. The first one she found in her radius she went for, redirecting the search to see if there were any closer to her than it. Thankfully, some luck remained, and it appeared to be the closest. The sound of fighting still raged, Lung's anger growing by the roar. How long had it been? Surely a minute by now? Were they even still alive?

Taylor snatched the receiver and punched in the number for the PRT. The first time she flubbed it and had to start again, the keen awareness that every second could mean that whoever saved her had just died. Somehow she managed to pull through the shock and pain enough to scream the address into the receiver, along with Lung's name probably a dozen times. Dimly, she was aware of the person at the other end saying something about a response team already on the way. That was good. Okay. Now what, though?

She couldn't go back. It was suicide. There was no difference she could make. That man seemed like he could handle things. That thought struck her as a little sexist, given he or she had been wearing a baggy hoody. Then she remembered it was just her own thoughts right now, so she could be as sexist in her assumptions as she damn well pleased. Ah. This was probably shock she was experiencing. Now she was certain that she couldn't go back. Her legs, however, had apparently not been privy to that decision since they'd already carried her halfway there.

Upon arrival, Taylor found a scene of... Not much carnage, actually. The fires Lung had set had mostly gone out, apart from the napalm-like burning of whatever it was that he had breathed in the first place. He didn't seem to be using his pyrokinesis anymore, though. What impressed her more was the other participant in the fight. As Taylor stood a full street away, peeking around a corner, she felt a sensation of awe. So that's what it looked like when real capes fought. Every time the man-shaped dragon, or possibly dragon-shaped man, swung at his patchwork foe the other guy just wasn't there. He was moving out of the way as soon as Lung began to swing, ducking under and around to stay in his blind spot.

Maybe Lung needed focus for the fire? Her suspicions were reinforced when he sprayed a stream of burning that was quickly cut off when the masked assailant spin-kicked him in the jaw. That sounded rather painful. In fact, for a moment the lower jaw actually hung loose. Then Lung just reached for it and casually cracked it back into place. Oh, look. Now he had bigger fangs. That was just fantastic. It was only now she noticed that the gear the misfit was wearing actually was damaged. There were cuts and scorch marks all over and on top of that the fighter was breathing heavily. Lung looked smug, too. It was only now that Taylor noticed why the fires had been allowed to go out.

Her savior had been maneuvered into a corner, and now the only way to get out of Lung's reach was to go through the clinging flames behind him or through the dragon cape himself. Which wasn't happening. He might have dislocated Lung's jaw with a kick, but he hadn't so much as budged the larger aggressor from his footing. Meaning whatever Brute strength he had wasn't enough to match up to the superior strength and mass that was being put against him. Worse; Lung had been faking his lack of focus by flaring up the fires once more with apparently no more than a thought. It was a circle of hellfire now, surrounding the would-be hero.

She was going to watch him die. He'd tried to save her. But she did bugs. Just bugs. Not super bugs or giant bugs or laser bugs. Just... Bugs. Insects. Sometimes crustaceans. Once more she was helpless before someone who was just stronger than her. But something was wrong. Why were her legs moving? Taylor was walking out into the open and she wasn't sure why, even as Lung took a deep breath in preparation to incinerate the little gnat before him.

"_**HEY!**_"

It took her a moment to register that it was her voice. Heat surged into her chest from her right hand, now clenched into a fist. Lung started, turned. Saw her. The source of a great deal of pain for him, right to his most sensitive parts. Suddenly he found himself faced with a quandary in his excess of targets. Should he kill the one that had just humiliated him personally, or the one who was too cowardly to stand and fight a real fight? Or rather, which one first.

It was during that moment of hesitation that the PRT arrived. Which is when things really got ugly.


	2. (1-2) Drawbacks

If I owned Worm, I'd be somebody else. Then you wouldn't be reading this right now. If you don't immediately recognize someone or something from the original, then they're either mine or as a result of the changes I've made. This story assumes you've read Worm and, as such, aren't about to be hit with massive spoilers.

* * *

**Drawbacks**

* * *

Lung had made up his mind. With a contemptuous flick of his tail he spun around, driving the appendage like a sledgehammer into bandana man's chest. It sent him flying, but not very far; Just into the wall some five feet away, where he slumped and remained. That startled Taylor. She'd taunted the increasingly less human cape in the hope of saving her savior, not getting him pounded into a brick wall. Instead, that was exactly what had happened. Somewhat disheartening. She also quickly realized, as the massive beast who by now probably weighted close to a ton charged her, that she hadn't planned much beyond that moment.

Lung came on to the street she was in at a breakneck pace, a metaphor she'd never expected to be quite so literal, and was immediately blindsided by a man on a motorcycle. The result was fairly anticlimactic. More accurately, he'd been jousted. There was a blunt, three-pronged instrument extending from the end of a six-foot halberd in the armoured hand of the rider. It crackled with electricity. He'd rammed it right into Lung's side, catapulting him a good thirty feet before he'd skidded to a halt, disembarking as the head of his weapon reconfigured itself. The triple prongs sunk back in as the axe blade split down the middle. Moments latter, a dozen thick nozzles packed side by side extended from it. Mist seeped from each of them in a fairly dramatic fashion.

The two stared each other down for what felt like a long, long time. In reality, only a few seconds. Then, seeing the PRT choppers incoming from across the bay, Lung snarled. Fire flowed from his mouth and into his hand, curling into a ball that slagged a nearby manhole and several feet of the road around it. Then he dropped through and was gone. The hero shook his head, disappointed, and walked over to the hole. He pulled something from his weapon and dropped it down there. Afterwards, he turned back and started walking towards Taylor. One look at her mask and he just tossed a small metal capsule at her feet. She only had a second to look at it before it detonated, sealing her legs up to mid-thigh in containment foam. Well then. He casually slung more of the pellets underarm at a number of other people. Anyone wearing the ABB colours, including her rescuer.

"Wait!" He turned, looking at her. That was intimidating. This was Armsmaster, after all. Leader of the local Protectorate team. He was frowning at her, and when he spoke something about his voice was... Off. She wasn't sure quite what, though. _"You're under arrest. Don't make things any harder on yourself. This mess is already big enough thanks to your ego."_

Wait. Did he think she'd tried to fight Lung? As in, for territory? Oh, this was bad. Really bad. Pretty terrible, actually. As she freaked out about that little misunderstanding he adjusted his halberd yet again, moving to a triple-nozzle configuration on the top that he used to spray a different sort of foam over the clinging fires. Along with continuing to goo up the few remaining ABB members that had somehow been incapacitated in the fight. Given their locations, slumped over or against various objects, that had probably been their leader in his haste to get to her. Oops.

"Wait, no! Please, I'm not a villain." That caused him to stop dead in his tracks. Followed by Taylor experiencing one of her childhood idols stomping over to her and staring her down. It was intimidating even when she couldn't see his eyes behind the sharp, v-pattern visor. She could see his frown, though. _"Say that again."_ Oh. That was unexpected. Had he... Not heard her? "I'm... I'm not a villain. I'm a good guy." There was no response, just a silent look at her costume from top to bottom. Lingering on the mask. "... I... didn't intend for it to come out like this, and then it was too late to change it. Please, you have to believe me. I heard Lung saying they were going to attack some kids and I..." Taylor trailed off. It sounded weak, even to her.

But Armsmaster just nodded. He touched his halberd to the foam around her feet and injected something into it, dissolving it immediately. _"I apologize. You understand how it looked." _Not a question. He knew, both from her own acknowledgement of the costume and from some other innate surety he just seemed to possess. _"This is why we have the Wards program." _Again, a cold statement. Not... Derisive, as such. In fact, his tone would have seemed almost amused if it wasn't so mechanical. _"You're very lucky to be alive. Must be some power." _

Taylor managed to visibly surprise him when she doubled over, clutching at her stomach and laughing. Laughing until she threw up, nearly toppling in the process. He caught her reflexively, or so it seemed, as he quickly helped her grab on to a nearby mailbox before unhanding her as fast as he could. "S-sorry! It's just... Stress. And shock, I guess. But I... Do bugs. Just bugs." He tiled his head, obviously not understanding. "I can... Control them, I guess. In a decent range. But that's it. They're still just bugs." Oh. She'd stung Lung in the eye. The colour drained from her face as she recalled that. "Lung's going to kill me."

But he shook his head at that. _"He's long gone. Nobody around to witness his retreat, otherwise he'd have forced himself to fight me. Lung doesn't like to acknowledge losses. He'll probably pretend that you were never here, that it was all me. I'll do the same." _That stung, just a little. She'd held him off for a while. Confused him, aggravated him. Protected... Someone. She still had no idea who they'd been targeting. It was only then that she remembered. "Oh! One of those people you foamed, he isn't with the ABB. The one with the fireman's gloves and the two bandanas. He fought Lung to protect me." Now that statement caught the man's attention. _"Can you show me which one?"_ Taylor nodded. After a couple of shaky steps, Armsmaster offered her his arm.

That felt nice. She felt a lot more heroic as he helped her over to the other side of the street. Where her savior was still out, sealed in a ball of foam that went from his waist to his shoulders. Armsmaster asked her to be sure, but she pointed out the boots. Melted rubber on the bottoms, and definitely not the same as the other gangbangers. Satisfied she was sure, he unfoamed the guy. For now. _"He took a hit, but he'll be fine. Just stunned. I'll wake him."_ That was followed by his halberd dropping a small violet pellet into his hand, that he cracked in front of the guy's face.

Closer up, he looked young. No older than Taylor, even though she could only see his eyes. The bandanas hid his hair and covered his mouth. She sort of wondered why Armsmaster hadn't taken them off, before remembering that there was essentially a secret Cape Code on this kind of thing. You don't unmask people. Her thoughts were interrupted by the acrid scent of the pellet, that started her one-time rescuer out of his stupor. What happened after that, however, was unexpected.

First he screamed. Then he started completely freaking out. Full on panic attack, with extra puke. She had to jump back, amazed that the calm and composed person who'd kicked Lung in the face, several times, was such a... She couldn't think of a word she felt comfortable using, actually. Armsmaster seemed stunned as well, not quite sure what to make of it. But after about a minute or so he seemed to calm, sitting against the wall with vomit covering his legs and feet. Eurgh. "Sorry about that." He said quietly, pulling the stained bandana off his lower face and tossing it to one side. "Power backlash." No further comments from there.

"_I'd like both of you to come with me back to headquarters." _As he addressed them the chopper pulled into place overhead before landing on a roof. Just the one, now. The remaining two had apparently turned back after Lung had left. Fire sirens could be heard in the middle distance, along with regular law enforcement. _"Although I can't force you, I would seriously recommend you consider it. We can discuss what to do next." _The young guy pulled off his second bandana and Taylor started in response. She recognized him immediately, as the new kid she'd 'rescued' that morning.

Armsmaster had pressed a few buttons on a panel that flipped up from his gauntlet and his cycle had shot off on its own. Then he'd carried the both of them up to the rooftop with a quick boost. They were entering the chopper as the fire engines arrived to clean up the blaze. The cops arrived at about the same moment, along with a PRT van that would help with ungooping the captured ABB members. Taylor, however, remained silent as she took a seat. The vehicle didn't make much noise as it took off and the ride was rather smooth. That's what a budget the size of the PRT's did, she supposed. The boy had introduced himself as Abel, although he hadn't wanted to give his last name immediately. She had a feeling that, with the Protectorate member having seen his face, it wouldn't matter if it came to it.

She hadn't said her name just yet. After all, she didn't even have a cape name yet. Neither did Abel, apparently. He wasn't very talkative. Although the few things he'd said, both now and earlier, didn't have that difficulty she usually associated with his speech patterns. The German accent was still there, at least. Was he just not nervous? Or was that an affectation, to separate his civilian identity from his real self? Taylor glanced over at their escort and was surprised to notice to note that he was holding his halberd fairly tightly. It took a few moments for Armsmaster to notice she was watching him, and at first he didn't do a thing. Then, over the course of a few long moments, he gradually relaxed. Trying to make it look natural.

The rest of the ride they were all like that. A hero and two wannabes who had gotten into a rather large mess that the former had needed to save them from. That was embarrassing. In spite of that, as they drew closer, Taylor began to feel... Better. She was on a PRT vehicle. Heading to the Protectorate Headquarters. Maybe she'd be asked to join the Wards. Then she could get transferred to Arcadia and not have to worry about Emma or Sophia or Madison ever, ever again. That was a thought so heartening she almost missed Armsmaster shifting forward in his seat and asking them something. _"Before we get there, I have to ask something. Do either of you have Stranger abilities?" _She looked up at him, trying to remember the cape classification system.

That was... Stealth type powers. Sort of. There was a lot of variation in the system, due to the wide variety of powers and how variably they could be used. Technically she could count, in terms of her surveillance abilities, but she didn't think that was what he meant. So she just shook her head. Abel took on a self-deprecating expression as he answered. "Ah... People can never remember my name? But it was like that before the Trigger, so I do not think that it is a power." That elicited a small chuckle from Taylor and a flat look from their escort, who smiled after a moment. _"Alright. We just have to be a little cautious about security. Don't wander, once you get inside."_ No fear of that.

Then he paused, a panel lowering from his visor to obscure his mouth. That made Taylor and Abel jump, the latter turning quite pale after a few moments. She scooted surreptitiously to one side in case he was about to throw up again. Armsmaster didn't do anything else, though. Was he... Talking? Oh. That made sense, she supposed. A moment later the panel snapped up again. _"I apologize. I'll be handing you off to someone else at the other end. There's something I have to take care of." _His fists were clenched tightly as he said that, unclenching slowly over the next minute or so. It must be something big, to cause that kind of a stir.

The faint sound of the rotors stopped. Moments later the door opened, Armsmaster already striding through the opening and down the ramp before it had actually hit the ground. Abel scrambled to follow after, while Taylor stared blankly for a few seconds before realizing she was meant to follow to. Seemed she was still a little frazzled from the whole 'nearly burned to death' thing. Or possibly the 'nearly disemboweled by a vaguely man-shaped dragon' thing. Either would make sense. They'd landed in a staging area at the back of the building, one which was humming with activity. As soon as they were out of the chopper a PRT team was piling into it. Something big must be happening. She didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed she was missing it.

For a moment her heart turned to ice as she looked up at the building, waiting to see if a certain, ominous siren was about to sound. But it didn't. When she looked down Abel and Armsmaster were nearly inside. She hurried after them, heading through the wide open bay doors into the building. It appeared to be a loading bay, of sorts, except also more like an armory. They exited as quickly as they'd arrived, moving out of the stream of people prepping weaponry and moving it into vehicles. Taylor had seen a driveway extending from the side of the building as she'd gone in, which explained why there were trucks in here. Seemed inefficient to her, but there must be some sort of reason for it.

Then again, she had thought that the Protectorate Tower was only accessible by air or sea. It had been that way for as long as she could remember. A luminescent bastion on the horizon, the shining forcefield around it holding back wind and wave all the same. Normally PRT units would deploy from smaller stations inside Brockton Bay. That they were being launched from here as well, to the extent of raising some sort of bridge for extra land vehicles, seemed to say that whatever was going on was big. Speaking of big, this place was labyrinthine. She had to wonder if it was designed confusingly on purpose. Surely not all the doors they passed were in use. While they were marked in some fashion, it appeared to be some sort of code.

Armsmaster stopped suddenly, rapping his gauntleted knuckles against a door. Moments later it swung open, an athletic young man in a PRT logo shirt staring at them. Followed by a panicked salute. _"You'll do. Two potential recruits. Take them down to the Wards area and keep an eye on them until the patrol gets back here. Then you can hand over." _The young fellow saluted smartly as his superior moved off immediately, then looked at the two of them. "Can y'all wait up a sec, I'm just gonna grab... Actually, why dontcha just step in here for a sec, I oughtn't let ya wander." As soon as the far more imposing hero was out earshot the trainee, or possibly recruit, had significantly relaxed.

He waved her and Abel into the room, the latter male looking a bit more nervous without a proper hero around. Or so she guessed, it could just be that he had a thing about other people's bedrooms. Which this wasn't, as it turned out. Rather, they came into a small living room with a kitchenette attached. "M'name's Jake. Howabout you two? Got names? Cape or otherwise, I don't mind." Taylor thought about it for a moment, trying to decide what to say. She didn't quite want Abel to know who she was yet, but at the same time she still hadn't thought of a good nickname. "I'm Abel. This is... Um..." Jake took that in stride, offering her his hand. "Nice ta meetcha, Um. Guessin' ya don't have a hero label just yet? But ya don't want ta tell ya real name until yer sure 'bout the whole 'Wards' thing? Don't blame ya. I'll call ya 'Mandy' for now. 'cause ya got those mandibles, see?"

That... Worked, she supposed. "Oh... Okay. I can live with that." A pause. "... Why'd you say mandibles?" He just gave her a look that spoke volumes. About what, well, she wasn't sure. But it certainly did it. "They're mandibles, ain't they? So I said mandibles. Look pretty neat. Kinda scary. Seen worse costumes, though. Shadow Stalker used t'wear a hockey mask, and ya wouldn't believe the first draft for Clockblocker's insignia. Still got a picture 'round here somewhere." This was fairly relaxing, actually. He had a nice tone to his voice, overall. Even Abel seemed more at ease. After grabbing two stacks of paperwork, one of which he handed to each of them in turn, and another pile of thick binders Jake was ready to go.

"So are you a Ward?" That question from Abel made Jake chuckle. He didn't look like a Ward. Sure, he was fairly fit, but the build didn't match any of the ones she knew about. "Nah, not strong enough for that. They tell me I'm a Thinker One, but I think I'm closer to a Zero. Literally incapable of getting bored with a task regardless of how mind-numbingly repetitive it is. Plus a decent memory, but that ain't a power or nothin'. Th' Director says I'm literally her dream cape, made solely for paperwork. Which'd be whatcha carryin'." Taylor was suddenly very, very grateful for her power. The one Jake had been saddled with sounded like a one-way trip to the lowest levels of bureaucracy hell.

They came out into a larger room. Taylor would have been a bit more lost if she hadn't left a discrete trail of flies as far as she could reach, telling her where they were in relation to the entrance they'd used as well as Jake's room. She was fairly impressed with how few insects there were in the building. Although she was subtly herding the ones she could feel through the walls to her position. One way or another the building was going to be a lot cleaner when she left. Their guide pointed out a table where they could put his work down, and then they could look around. It was interesting. They were in a larger lounge area that overlooked a training area of sorts. Thick glass, she noted. So the Wards could watch each other practicing? That was interesting. There was a television area over there, with some game consoles. A small kitchen area and tables over that side, although it only seemed to have a fridge, jug and microwave in terms of cooking implements.

"There's snack stuff in there, if ya want it. Feel free t'make yerselves a hot drink, too. I'm happy to answer any questions ya have while ya wait for one of the Wards. Musta been a big deal t'make Armsmaster rush off like that. I'll get the telly, shall I?" Despite it being a question, Jake grabbed a remote and turned it on, flicking over to one of the news channels. Currently it was coverage of the fire in the Docks area. Both Taylor and Abel turned red at that, although she was very grateful her mask hid it. "Hah! Abel, Mandy, y'all were responsible for that? Or involved, at th' very least. Looks nasty." He turned up the volume just in time for the announcement that the destruction had been wrought by Lung as Armsmaster had attempted to apprehend him. There had been a few casualties, but no fatalities thanks to the rapid response time of the Brockton Bay Fire Department.

Jake whistled appreciatively. "Mighty impressive if it were. So, tell me about you guys. How d'you work?" Taylor shifted a bit on the spot, having moved over to make herself a coffee. She could use one right about now. Best get it quickly. "I do bugs. Control them, I mean. It's... Not a very heroic power." That made the young pencil pusher laugh again. He had an infectious laugh. Had Armsmaster grabbed the first person, or had he deliberately picked someone non-threatenng? Hard to say. He'd seem worried. She found the jar of beans just as Abel began his spiel, and paused to listen. She was fairly interested to learn how his worked. "I'm... Varied, I guess you could say. Brute, Mover, Thinker."

That lead both of the people in the room to pause for a moment, staring at him. Interesting combination. Generally powers tended to group in like sets, although that wasn't a hard and fast rule. Jake gestured for him to go on. "Ah... I have enhanced strength and speed. Little bit of toughness. Near as I can tell my bones are unbreakable. That... Isn't as helpful as you might imagine. I also get stronger if I'm angry. Exponentially so." That lead to a loud whistle from Jake. With good reason. "That's a pretty potent setup, there... Least I'd say so normally. But y'sound a teensy bit less pleased 'bout it. Whyzat?" Abel sighed, pulling up a chair and slumping into it. Then he shuffled around, finding a piece of paper and a pencil in his pockets somewhere. The latter was snapped in half, but he used it anyway.

"That's where the Thinker bit comes in." Taylor noted two things. One, he wasn't a bad artist. At least from her angle. Two, he had a faint tinge of an accent but wasn't mispronouncing any words. "When my life is under threat, I gain a form of... You could call it hypercognition? It enables me to rapidly come to certain conclusions from what I observe. Which is a problem. Say you are swinging at me, from what little I know of fighting my power says to me 'He is to swing like this and you can dodge it like that'. Okay, this is fine. But I do not know what you are going to do next. Worse, I can only act based on my own thoughts. It's like... I have no enhanced predictive ability as a result of it. Rather, I just get a little advanced warning. It is... Hard to describe." That made sense to Taylor, at least. Not how it worked, though. The explaining thing. She had difficulty explaining how she felt and controlled insects. It was just like having a thousand extra limbs. She knew where they were and how they were moving at all times without really thinking about it.

"Still," Jake spoke up, "That seems pretty handy all in all. With a bit of training you could be a lethal melee fighter." He did hold off Lung fairly well, Taylor knew that much. Although he'd seemed very calm during the fight. "My Thinker power cuts off my emotions. Enhances logic and reasoning at the cost of feelings. So if I'm angry I am incredibly strong, but if my life is under threat then suddenly I am just fairly strong. Discovering this was... Painful." Their sympathetic compatriot nodded. "Well, looks like we got ourselves th' new discount heroes club! Maybe we can form our own team! The Bureaucrat, the Grumpy Savant an' the Incredible Mandy!" He laughed at his own joke. Taylor snickered. Just a little. Abel seemed confused.

"We now go live to our eye in the sky reporter, who's giving you the latest on these events..." They all turned almost instinctively to the television at that, Jake snatching the remote to turn it up. The image was... Confusing, at the very least. The image was of the area around the northern docks, not far from the boat graveyard. It was an image of... Devastation. Fire, destruction, flattened buildings, capes fighting. She could see the Armsmaster, or so she thought, but it was hard to tell. Some lights that had to be the members of New Wave were present as well. But who were they fighting? The news report continued.

"Thank you Janet!" He was having to practically shout over the detonations in the background. "This afternoon, at the same time as an altercation with the leader of the Asian Bad Boys occurred on the southern side of the dock, a minor gang calling themselves 'The Merchants' attempted to seize some of their territory! It is unknown at this time if these two events are related! However! What is known is that events rapidly escalated when, during the fighting, some members of the known white supremacist gang known as 'Empire Eighty Eight' were caught in the crossfire! Since this part of town is not their 'turf' we don't exactly know why they were present at the time, but as you can see the fighting is starting to spiral out of control! The Brockton Bay Protectorate members have come out in full force, with support from the city's Parahuman Response Teams and the heroes of New Wave! But they seem to be encountering some diffi-"

It happened in a split second. A rising surge of smoke from the area of fighting that hurtled towards the chopper, slamming into the side. There was a loud screech of metal tearing as the image suddenly became shaky before being cut by the station. Janet started to apologize for the shocking visuals, and began to gravely inform the viewers that they had just lost their chopper to an unknown attack. Jake turned it off, leaning back into his chair. "Well... Shit. That's a goddamned mess, innit? Th' Eighty-Eight, th' ABB an' some stupid upstarts all startin' shit. No wonder boss went off in a hurry. Wonder what junkie shithead thought that was a good idea, eh? They won't be calling the Wards into that hellhole, I can tell you that much. Speakin' of which, few of 'em oughta be arrivin' soon. Before they do, I've got a bit of combat trainin' myself. So why don't y'all come with me down into that there gym and I can put ya through yer paces a bit before they show?"

Abel nodded, grateful to be drawn away from what they'd just seen. Whereas Taylor just wasn't sure what to think. Was it a coincidence? Had someone planned to strike at Lung's turf while he was distracted? Had they known about it all. She really had to wonder about it all. Still, Jake's offer sounded interesting. Without much hand to hand experience at all, maybe she could learn a thing or two so she wouldn't totally embarrass herself when it came time to meet the real team.

* * *

_See elsewhere..._

* * *

Across town, the supposedly minor league supervillain Coil cried out. Initially with involuntary terror, and then with pain as he fell out of his chair and hit his head on the wall behind him. Shit. He split again, letting one of himself wallow in pain for a few minutes and forcing the other to get back up and call his assistant. The paths converged again when she arrived then split once more. In one, he demanded that she get him all the files they had on every known parahuman in Brockton Bay as well as every one of the Case 53 files. Whereas in the other, he demanded that she arrange for a professional artist to be brought to him. At once.

When the latter man arrived, Coil was on the phone talking with someone. "The other one was a catastrophic failure. I'm aware. Someone showed up at the other fight. No, I don't think so. I'm trying to figure out what the break point was now. Lung, Kaiser, Armsmaster, Miss Militia. No, they survived. Not unscathed, no. Actually, it was Manpower. His spine. Yes. No, I don't think it was. Of course, why else would I be giving you this information? Goodbye." Then he hung up, turning to the terrified artist. "You are going to draw exactly what I tell you."

Along the other path, Coil paused in his examination of the files with two of his analysts. Then he smoothed some papers out of the way and began sketching. It wasn't great, but he was careful about it. Once he was done, he converged once more into that line. "Start with the Brutes, and also look out for Changers or Trumps. Anyone who looks like, or has ever looked like this." He stood up, splitting out of the room. One left, the other right. Coil headed for his fortified bunker. Thomas Calvert slipped invisibly back out of the hidden base and back into wide open Brockton Bay. His steps were uneven. Unsteady.

The memory of a nightmare to rival the Endbringers trailed after him.


	3. (1-3) Berserker

This isn't quite what Worm would look like if I had written it. But it's fairly close. Sadly, I didn't write Worm. The guy who did is awesome though. Go read it.

* * *

**Berserker**

* * *

Armsmaster cursed furiously as Oni Lee vanished yet again, leaving behind his usual semi-real clone with explosive in hand. Snapping his halberd into place with suit-assisted speed he activated a sub-weapon that turned the teleporter into a human popsicle. Snarling at the power readout in his suit, which had just dropped a full percentage point from that, he dived backwards anyway. The resulting blast caused the ice block, the rooftop within a foot of it, and Oni Lee to compress to a single point that then splattered all over a ten foot radius.

"_Attention! Sudden cold does __**not**__, repeat, __**not**__ neutralize the devices! Keep foaming them, it's the best chance you have!" _Part of him was desperately wishing that Clockblocker was here. That might have helped. But, then again, putting the Wards in contact with this level of danger wouldn't have sat well with anyone in the fight. There were a few things working in their favor, though. Number one, Lee's power didn't seem to be able to duplicate the volatile devices he'd been given. So he couldn't pull his usual trick of rapidly teleporting around someone to activate a dozen grenades. Well, to be totally accurate, he could. But he seemed to have a limited supply of the tinkertech explosives.

Tinker-made bombs. The mere combination of words chilled the blood. In the hands of a group like the ABB it was an absolute goddamned nightmare. He'd shot a message off to Dragon about it but she hadn't replied just yet. That was irritating, but understandable. What was she expected to do about it from Canada? Miss Militia caught a Lee clone down in the melee with a round to the knee and he fell, dropping the bomb in hand. It went off as it hit the ground, filling everyone's vision with white light.

* * *

_Adults die, children play..._

* * *

Off in the Bay, or more accurately above it, a hundred and fifty pound Parahuman with super strength was tossed a good six feet by a well-trained young man without it. Abel landed with a heavy thud on the mat, followed by a drawn out curse in German. Taylor chuckled at the sight, subtly rubbing at her own backside. Yeah, that hurt. Hopefully superhuman toughness made it hurt a bit less. Even though his only power was amusingly boring, Jake was still well trained. As he'd explained it, since he was technically a member of the PRT instead of the Wards, he'd been required to stick to their training regimen. Which was, obviously, pretty strenuous.

Accepting the hand offered to him by the victor, Abel pulled himself to his feet. "You throw like a horse, Jake. Are you sure you don't have any po-" Suddenly doubling over, the Germanic teen retched heavily. The other two both looked at him with concern, Taylor speaking up first.

"Are you okay?" Jake stepped up, crouching so he could check out Abel's face. "Ditto fer what Mandy said. Y'looking a bit green 'round the gills there, buddy." He was waved away, however, as the theoretically most powerful member of their trio sat down again. Heavily. "I though I, urgh, mentioned this?" That got a firm head shaking from Jake, and a confused expression from Taylor. "Ah. Verzeihung. Oh, apologies. It is... How would you say it... Kriegsneurose?" He looked at the blank expressions from both of them and shook his head. "My English is not that bad, I am told, but certain specific phrases or idioms tend to elude me..."

It was certainly much better than she'd ever seen. That was still a mystery that she longed to solve, but couldn't really broach without giving away exactly who she was. "Well, as I have said, my power cuts off my emotion if my life is in danger. Just then, it cut on a little bit. So not much danger. When it ends, all that I would have felt while it was active... It strikes, all at once. The effect is... Sickening, to say the very least." That made Jake walk past him and take a seat as well, back to back. "That blows, mate. Ya got yerself a grand suite of combat abilities there, and then it turns out they don't exactly play well with each other. Think it'll get better over time?"

As the two fell into subdued conversation, she moved back to the bench at the end of the mats. For a while there, it had felt pretty great. Jake had been showing them a few things. How to make a fist properly, how to hold yourself to resist a shove and, just now, some quick and dirty throws for use in a grapple. It had taken her mind of the fact that they were ostensibly here to join the Wards. But she did bugs, and Abel's powers crippled him if there was a lull in the combat. Neither of them was particularly heroic. She was certainly willing to try her best, sure. Yet... Looking at the dark-haired young man sitting back to back with the fighting bureaucrat she was reminded of how he'd looked standing between her and Lung.

It was weird to think that if the gang leader had stopped threatening him for even as little as a minute, then he'd be dead. "Bah! Enough moping. Jake, I have been meaning to ask. Why are the PRT and the Wards in the same building as the Protectorate HQ? I thought they kept them separate?" She looked up at Abel, thinking back for a moment. He'd come only at the start of the year, presumably from another city given his comment. So he probably wouldn't know. "Well, ya see, after that business with them 'Base Earth' fellows, they decided it'd be safer t'have all of 'em in one place. Plus some fortified PRT response stations in town."

Taylor's mouth almost filled with bile as unpleasant memories boiled to the surface. Emma had brought them up in class not long ago, as little as a few weeks. Mentioned how maybe they had the right idea at times. For once, Sophia had shot her down; Only to drown out that glimmer of humanity by insinuating something far worse. Weird, though... She couldn't even recall what it had been. A lot of things the pair said had been like that, since she'd chosen to shut herself away mentally. A quick, clean pain that faded quickly. "Ah... What is 'Base Earth'?"

She managed to catch herself before she hit the ground; Abel's question having caused her to stumble and almost faceplant on the mat. Up until then she'd been in the process of heading back over to ask Jake if she could go back up and check on the news. All thought of that was forgotten. "What! How do you not know about them? They're only the worst thing to happen to capes since... Since... Argh!" Oh, look. The dark-haired teen looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. Possibly because she had launched herself across the room to screech at him like an insane banshee. Whoops. Jake had caught her hands in an outstretched death-grip, thanks to PRT reflexes, and gently lowered her arms.

"I-I-I only moved here from Seattle last year! B-before that I lived in Europe! S-so I don't know very much about Brockton Bay..." There was a sharp retort as Jake slapped her once across the mask, firmly. Still stung. A lot. He seemed worse off, though, clutching his hand. "Damn, Mandy! Those things are tough. Ya back to yer senses, there? Ain't any need to take it so personal-like. If he don't know then he don't know." Taylor nodded weakly, forcing herself to calm down a bit. "... Sorry, Abel. I just... Personal issues. Sorry, Jake. Guess I have a tough face." That got a restrained yet understanding nod from Abel as he pulled himself to his feet, along with a chuckle from the still-grinning fellow.

Jake suggested they head upstairs and actually get those snacks and drinks he'd suggested earlier. That sounded like a good idea. Apparently school would have gotten out by now, so some of the Wards would be on their way over. "They tend t'come over and hang out here most afternoons, y'see. 'cept for Shadow Stalker. Be thankful for small mercies. Y'all will never meet a bigger ragin' bitch unless Lung miraculously undergoes a gender change." A snicker was elicited from his audience as he made that comment, taking them back up in the elevator to the common room above. Directing Taylor and Abel to grab a seat, he went over to get drinks for all of them. Returning to their table a moment later with sodas in hand and a bag of chips precariously clutched between head and shoulder, Jake dropped all of the food and drink on the table.

Then began the awkward task of explaining things to Abel. The German teen sat in silence as Jake took it upon himself to do so. Back in ninety-five, as he put it, Capes were first starting to get 'big'. This group started, calling themselves 'Real Heroes of America'. On the whole they were a peaceful, non-violent movement that had been calling for unmasking of capes, all capes, along with mandatory registration of powers and outlawing of unregistered Parahumans. It had been ludicrous at the time, of course. Nobody had taken them remotely seriously, if only because of the fairly goofy name and the fact that the gratitude towards the new heroes significantly outweighed the fears they were trying to raise.

Things changed for them around late two thousand, to early two thousand one. Following the death of Hero and the sudden widespread public knowledge of the Slaughterhouse Nine they briefly gained popularity and a strong following. Even one or two Senators had jumped on the bandwagon. Until the Nine paid their National Headquarters a visit. It was a bloodbath. Absolutely brutal, plain and simple. Only a small handful of survivors were left. Some of their members were known to have triggered in the process. According to rumour and hearsay, they all committed suicide.

Abel choked a little at the thought of that. Taylor, meanwhile, just shook her head. The worst was yet to come. Something else was nagging at her, as well, but she couldn't place it quite yet. Jake continued. "So, anyhow, that's where Base Earth came from…" They'd appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The full name of the group was 'The Base Earth', but only their members called them that. Their claim was that they served the purity of humanity and the sanctity of the human race. Parahumans were, according to them, an abominable blight upon the world. They advocated not registration or control, but extermination. No cape was a good cape.

With the Endbringers in play, they got both support and hate. On the one hand, there were tales filtering around through cyberspace that they targeted certain capes with particular powers. Anything that threatened to improve the lot of normal people. Yet on the other hand, who could fight them except for capes? Heroes and villains alike united to chase them away. Yes, exactly, said The Base Earth. That was it, wasn't it? Anyone who threatened to break the monopoly that capes had on 'protecting' the world was destroyed. Through the presentation of a great threat to unify against they kept the populace under control. The Endbringers, they claimed, were being controlled by a shadowy cabal of Parahumans who used them to maintain a status quo that kept them on top.

They pointed to the Protectorate and the funding that it received, to the Wards programs and how they 'recruited young'. Then to the unspoken 'cape code', which also caused 'villains' and 'heroes' alike to unite. It was all evidence of a greater conspiracy, they said. "But, that is ludicrous. The Endbringers are monstrosities, they threaten everyone!" Jake nodded at the outburst. "Ya, of course mate. Any sane person can see that, yanno? But these guys ain't exactly sane. They're terrorists, for cryin' out loud." That caused the dark-haired young man to be taken aback for a moment. They hadn't gotten to that bit just yet.

Taylor took over. "They attack capes. Weaker ones they'll try to ambush in the streets, or trail them home. When New Wave unmasked themselves, Base Earth bombed one of their homes. Now they all live in high-security penthouses. Arcadia High has insanely high security and zero tolerance policies because everyone knows Wards go there. They even moved the Wards base here after the old one was bombed. Along with the PRT HQ. Base Earth don't like 'cape sympathisers' either, which is what they call the PRT. It's crazy and stupid."

Their fairly heavy discussion was broken up by the door across the way opening, a red-haired young man sprinting in and diving for the remotes on the table. Snatching them up and launching himself into a couch, he turned the TV back on and ramped up the volume. Only then did he notice the three already there. "Oh, Jake! 'sup. Who're your frieeeeee-" The teen trailed off at the sight of Taylor, apparently freaking out a bit. "Oh shit, are we under attack here too? Why's there a villain in our lounge!" A young girl walking in through the door chuckled a bit at the outburst, tossing her backpack to one side.

"Dennis, you moron. They're obviously both new members, or Jake wouldn't be here with them. Hi, I'm-" She paused, both in speech and in place. "Jake, have they actually signed up yet?" He shook his head. "Kinda didn't expect y'all to just stroll in 'ere uncostumed and all." Immediately the young girl squeaked loudly, ran over and grabbed Dennis, dragging him out of the room. Jake laughed. "Heh. They'll go suit up, then, I guess. Y'all gotta join up now, else the Director's gonna have a fit. Ya wait here, I'll go guard the door an' prevent any more mishaps."

He made good on his word, stepping over and outside. After the door had closed, Taylor turned to Abel only to find his attention was locked on the television. Looking up at it she gasped suddenly at the sight. There was chaos. Fire and ice and widespread devastation as a brand new chopper, apparently, circled the scene at a greater distance. A surge of fire told her Lung was down there, and it zoomed in on a roughly quadrupedal storm of cutting edges that burst out of one smoke cloud and into another. It was the largest cape battle that Brockton Bay had seen in years, according to the news ticker.

* * *

_In the midst of chaos..._

* * *

Miss Militia loosed a powerful rifle shot into Lung's ankle right before Hookwolf hit him dead in the face, both of them being knocked back. Satisfied that the conflict there would continue for a time, she readjusted quickly before Lee could get a fix on her. Out of them all she was the most vulnerable to his tactics. Especially with those Tinker-made bombs. The Merchants had already fled the scene by now, having stuck around for a while due to simple drugged-up stubbornness but eventually decided that they were outmatched by an order of magnitude. Which was entirely correct, by her estimates.

Lee hadn't been sighted for a few minutes. She mused on that as she slipped through the smoke, her sighting goggles informing her of where she could move to and remain obscured. Colin had done good work on them, packing in everything she could have wanted and then some. It took in multiple wavelengths and combined them all into a sane vision setting that lit up targets of interest while tracing out locations that would be obscured to normal sight. Rather handy, she thought as she slipped into the smoke. From what she could tell, however, the fighting was winding down.

When the Merchants had left, so too had many of the E88 grunts along with the capes. As far as she could tell, it was just Hookwolf and Lung left. The former had apparently ignored his orders to withdraw while the latter was just too proud to give up. Still, they'd taken heavy casualties among the PRT due to the weapons that Oni Lee had been carrying. The idea that the ABB had a Tinker specializing in explosives was terrifying… To most people. In this context, as far as she was concerned, a bomb was a bomb. Either it would kill you, or not. Just because it did so in a weird way didn't make it scarier.

It could be, though. She knew that. Which is why she'd tagged a few ABB thugs in places that wouldn't kill them so they could be properly questioned as to who this new cape was and where they might be found. Such a person was a serious, legitimate threat to the safety of Brockton Bay. As well as the rest of the country, for that matter. Right now it remained an awkward stand-off, however, with nobody really wanting to get close to Lung after he'd been fighting for so long. Soon it'd be over.

A call came over the network, from Armsmaster. The word was fall back, apparently. Made sense. Hookwolf wouldn't stand much longer against Lung, and they could try to snatch him on the retreat. With the Asian gang leader as bulked up as he was right now there was no way they were bringing him down with what they had unless they were willing to accept casualties. She wasn't, not over this. Only a handful of civilians had been hurt, despite the widespread property damage, and that had mostly been due to the Merchants.

Sure enough, moments later Hookwolf took a hard shot to the head that sent him spiralling backwards, blades whirring and contorting. A PRT trooper carrying a foam launcher fired at him just as he hit the ground, the canister detonating on his sharp edges and getting caught in the rotation. He was down for the count. That was a nice prize. Lung, meanwhile, stood alone for a few moments. On her display he showed up as a searing corona of light, massive and intimidating. After a few moments he walked off to one side, melting his way through the pavement and into the drainage tunnels below. She made a mental note to see about putting motion sensors in those. They'd had no idea he relied on them so much for movement when he was like that.

That just left the clean-up. Armsmaster dropped down from a nearby rooftop, walking over to where the flying members of New Wave had touched down. He could handle the chatting. Miss Militia went towards the centre of the fight instead, considering the information available. Lung had been, according to Colin, preparing for some sort of assault on what he'd taken to be a gang of rivals. Then he'd been interrupted by two new capes; One of whom had a startlingly villainous costume but, as it turned out, was fairly heroic and one who was obviously Germanic in origins. Then, as they're being escorted to the Protectorate HQ, there's this attack that drags Empire Eighty-Eight and the Azn Bad Boys into a brief yet violent conflict.

She was understandably suspicious. This felt highly orchestrated to her, but she couldn't quite connect the dots on it. Even so, she had a need to see these new capes as soon as possible. Especially the second one. While she didn't necessarily think being of Germanic origins meant he was associated with the Empire, it was a notable point. One she felt was worth investigating. Thus, after ensuring that the PRT troopers knew how to handle the transportation of Hookwolf, she called for a boat. Colin could handle cleanup.

* * *

_Spectate..._

* * *

"See there? They've landed now. Looks like it's winding down." Clockblocker, apparently also known as Dennis, flopped back on the couch. He looked quite smug, having predicted that it would end up that way a few minutes ago. Taylor wasn't so sure. It seemed like it would be far too simple to end just like that. New Wave had touched down and were talking to Armsmaster, out of earshot of the restrained reporters, so that sounded just about right. "That's a lot of damage… Why do you think they didn't call for us?" The girl from before, Vista. They didn't know her real name, but she'd been fine to introduce herself once she'd been back in costume. They both looked quite… Professional, Taylor thought. At least compared to herself.

"So, 'Mandy' and Abel. What is it you two do?" Kid Win, boy tinker. His gold and red costume contrasted with Vista's teal and green, so they looked rather funny sitting side by side. The look gave a strong 'Hero' vibe, but with a bit of teenage flair added on to it. An homage to his inspiration, perhaps. Over there was Aegis and Gallant, both of whom made Taylor very nervous. Gallant because he was a large, rather attractive teenage male; Whereas Aegis was equally so, and also the leader of the team.

Thankfully, Abel fielded the question. "Short version is that I punch hard and take a hit, but stupid defective Thinker powers make me throw up after every fight. 'Mandy' over there controls bugs." Followed by Jake chiming in, "In case ya hadn't guessed as such from her costume." That got a laugh from everyone, even Taylor. This felt… Nice. She wasn't sure about joining up, still, but... With the sense of community here, adding in the prospect of actually getting to be a hero as well as the total lack of horrible bitches ruining her everyday life... No, nevermind. She was sure. Joining up with the Wards would be good, even great, for her.

The door across the room opened then, a familiar voice wafting through. Painfully familiar. An icy grip seized her heart and then dropkicked it out of her chest. "Wassup, bitches. Who's the new meat?" She didn't turn, just freezing up as everyone else turned to look. Dennis groaned loudly, mumbling under his breath, "Shit. Queen Killjoy is back." Aegis shot a brief glare at him, then stood. "Shadow Stalker. This is Mandy and Abel. They're looking to join the Wards." Abel, however, was looking straight at Taylor while everyone else had at least glanced over to the door. Then he nodded at her, standing up. As he walked past he whispered to her. "Verheisung, Taylor. Apparently I am not as smart as I thought I was."

Shadow Stalker stared And then he calmly ducked, picking up a couch with one hand; To the shock of everyone in the room. Before they could react, he hurled it directly at Shadow Stalker. With a brief shout of alarm she phased right through it, resulting in the absolute destruction of the back wall. As soon as she returned back to normal he was right there, hand clenching around her throat. Aegis and Gallant leapt into action, only for him to backhand the former into the latter; Sending both of them sprawling across the room. "What a moment this is. I've never had this happen to me before. Mind-numbingly furious and not in any danger to hold me back. Why, Sophia, I think I'm currently strong enough to rupture your windpipe with my thumb alone! Does that not sound delightful to you?"

She was certainly turning red. Taylor could see her limbs flickering into and out of substantiality as she desperately tried to phase through him. But she couldn't. Dennis was about to pass her and, without thinking, she tripped him. A moment later it occurred to her that freezing Abel right now might just kill Shadow Stalker… Sophia. Blood was dripping down his fingers from how hard he was squeezing her neck as his nails sliced into her flesh.

It was a nightmare. Or possibly a dream being granted. No… She didn't really think like that. And she had to do something. Anything. Her bag was right there, so…Alright. She could do something. As much as it might rankle, she could save Sophia. Eurgh. Just thinking that was making her feel sick. As she stood up the bugs were already pouring out of her backpack. Not many, since she'd had to find a way to keep them in there without them suffocating or being crushed. She'd had to choose wisely.

Three dozen wasps swarmed over to Abel. She drove them into his face, his ears, into his mouth. Stinging at his eardrums, his eyes, his tongue, his neck. Everywhere she could. But despite the pain he had to be in, as evidenced by his hate-filled screeching, he wouldn't let go. Sophia was visibly gagging now, her eyes starting to bug out. Taylor hadn't thought they actually did that. Suddenly a sharp retort filled the room, followed by three more in quick succession, and Abel dropped Shadow Stalker as blood sprayed from his arm. His expression turned in seconds from blinding hate to absolute ice as he turned to face Miss Militia where she stood in the wreckage of what had once been the doorway.

Then Clockblocker reached him, stopping him in place. The senior Protectorate member stepped over the rubble of the wall, her heavy pistol spinning into a rifle and a baton before she holstered it. "Would someone please explain to me why the first reaction one of our prospective members had to Shadow Stalker was to try and crush her throat?" Then, after an irritated glance at said Ward, "Kid Win, Gallant, carry her to the infirmary please." As they followed orders, she advanced on Aegis as he extricated himself from the wall that Abel's kick had embedded him in. "Well?"

Taylor cleared her throat, drawing all eyes to her. "I think… I can explain that."


	4. (1-4) Conflux and Diversion

It'd be pretty cool to own Worm, but since this is written on and not I obviously do not. In some ways this got away from me. It might change in the next few days. But in the end I got down what I need to. It'll all make sense, eventually. Then again, maybe not? That was part of the point of the original, after all.

* * *

**Conflux and Diversion**

* * *

Tattletale hung up the phone, frowning. That had been the supposedly mysterious 'Boss', informing her that the plan had worked perfectly. Tone of voice plus timing of call plus sudden change of plans meant that his alternative plan hadn't gone well. He'd even sounded... That couldn't be. Her Thinker brain was telling her that he was afraid. Add that to her growing list of things that were just plain weird. Best to talk to the others about the conversation either way. "Huddle up, Undersiders. Team meeting. Alec, where's Rachel?"

The French Canadian boy shrugged, waving vaguely in the direction of downstairs. Implicit meaning, with her dogs and not wanting to be disturbed. Too bard. "Grab Brian and meet us in the kitchen." As she went downstairs the curly-haired young man pulled himself off the couch and away from his game console with a distinct grumble of discontent. Insinscere. Curiosity. Obviously he'd been listening to her call. She didn't mind. Neither her, now the 'Boss' would say anything incriminating. The nature of his ability meant she didn't have to, either. She had to be very careful not to give too much away on that front, however.

Thinking of what she might suffer should Coil learn that she knew how his power worked was always a great motivator to be even more cautious. Shaking it off, she skipped down the steps into the garage area where Bitch's dogs were all tied up. Despite her best efforts, the other girl still looked like a homeless scavenger. Rachel really didn't differentiate between her real and cape selves, which did sometimes make things tough for all of them. "Team meeting upstairs, Rache." A moment of hesitation followed, one she allowed herself only because her team member wouldn't catch it. "When you're done." The gruffest member of the group glanced over at her, grunted, then went back to feeding the dogs.

Heading back upstairs, she found Alec pouring drinks for everyone at the small plastic folding table in the room. He'd been in a much better mood recently, although nothing could ever take the snark out of him. Ever since his father had apparently bitten of more than he could chew with a pair of Parahuman twins. One of whom, according to rumor in the cape underground, had apparently killed him in his own bed. At first the news had put him in a grim mood, until a letter had somehow found its way to them. She still had no idea how they'd found him, nor what it had said. But he was happy now. More importantly, he was stable.

Grue, meanwhile, was whistling a happy tune as he leaned back in one of the cheap plastic chairs they'd acquired for the meeting table. The idea had been to make it as uncomfortable as possible in order to speed up meetings. Earlier he'd gotten a call, from his mother by Tattletale's best guess, and it had left him on a glorious high. From the information she had, her power put together a line of assumption that was especially amusing to her given how it had contributed to their successful plan. "What's the word, Brian? You look rather smug today. Finally get a date?" The dark-skinned teen waved off Regent's taunts with a grin.

"Even better, Alec. Even better. If you must know, my stalwart companion, that scumbag my mother's been dating was one of the minor gangbangers arrested in this afternoon's brawl. He called in the middle of her meeting with our social worker to ask for bail and she was dumb enough to put him on speaker phone." That got laughs all around at the idea of some junkie thug begging for bail money while an unimpressed civil servant sat in the room. "That, my friend, is why I am so ecstatic on this fine day." A snort from Alec followed. "Uh-huh. And why is that causing you to speak like a complete idiot?" Further laughter ensued.

Rachiel ascended from the stairwell in the midst of that, frowning and grunting at the ongoing mirth. She had a painful tendency to assume that all jokes she didn't hear were at her expense. Luckily, in this case, she didn't make an issue of it. Still, the wedge between the rest of the team and her grew just a little bit more. It really was a tricky situation, and one that Tattletale didn't know what to do with. "So, Lisa. Now we're all here would you like to share the news with us?" She smiled at Brian, pulling up her own seat once Bitch had taken one.

"I would like to. There's good news, and bad. Good news is that Lung has completely forgotten we exist. Apparently he's fixating on both Empire Eighty-Eight and some new hero that kicked his scaly butt. Bad news is that the Boss thinks there's some new threat in town. From the sounds of it, a big one. Worse still, a hidden one. We're under orders to lay low until we get the go again." A chorus of groans from them was stilled as she raised her hand. "However! Big but time. We'll get paid a little extra in our wages because of that, with the expectation that we do a big job for him once the restrictions have lifted. He's looking into getting us new muscle, too, so we can do something to really put our name on the map."

Alec and Brian seemed happy with that, but Rachel was anything but pleased. Probably. Her cues were harder to read than many people that Lisa had met in her life. Still, Tattletale knew what it was about. Bitch had a habit of breaking up dog-fighting rings in her spare time, something she was surprisingly quiet about. Thinking on it for a moment, their de facto manager sighed and decided to cave just this once. "Rachel." Her head snapped up. So many of her mannerisms were like that, sharp and aggressive. It was actually pretty intimidating. "Actually, this goes for all of you. We don't need to stay home all day. If we do pull a job we just have to keep it small and quiet. Okay?"

She thought that Rachel was pleased at that. The only response she got was a muttered, "Fine", however. It would have to do. With that she broke up the meeting. Alec went back to his video games, Rachel to her dogs, and Brian went to clean up and head home. Lisa sequestered herself in her room as soon as he was gone, setting up her computers and turning on the signal bouncer for these particular queries. There were a few things to look into as she went into the evening. Pull up cape news on that screen, scan for anything interesting and earmark it for more detailed perusing later. Go digging into Protectorate files primarily for their Case 53 data then set up a digital dead drop by sunset. And, finally, start her search for any video footage of the two newbies who'd tangled with Lung earlier. It was time to figure out who the new players were.

* * *

_Full disclosure..._

* * *

Taylor felt more flushed and nervous sitting on the plush couch than she had in the interrogation room. She'd been escorted there the moment she mentioned she knew who Shadow Stalker really was, up until Armsmaster had shown up and had, according to Dennis, a 'flaming row' with the Director over it. He hadn't seemed the type for it. Then she'd been taken to a guest room and informed she might have to stay there while they sorted this out, so would she like them to call her family? She'd declined after checking that she could contact her father at any time. Really, she ought to call him. But not right now. The knowledge that he'd have been called by the school right now and told his daughter had assaulted another student was still fresh in the forefront of her mind.

Dennis and Missy, also known as Clockblocker and Vista, were sitting in with her. Officially, they'd told her, they were there to make sure she couldn't escape. Unofficially, they were providing moral support. Vista had even hugged her. That had been really, amazingly nice. The younger girl was really nice in general. The male Ward, on the other hand, was slightly abrasive sheerly on terms of his heavily informal personality. Even so, she found herself liking him. Especially when he kept making jokes at Shadow Stalker's, Sophia's, expense as well as the Director's. "Piggy must be shitting herself right now. If even a quarter of what you say is true then you could sue the Protectorate and the Wards back into the stone age with a decent lawyer. They'd offer you a full membership with honors just to get you to keep quiet, at this point."

She didn't know how to feel about that. Nor how to feel about Abel. At the very least she hadn't mentioned that he apparently had recognized her, too, for fear of that getting him in more trouble. After explaining what had been going on at Winslow the Director had gone momentarily quiet and then quickly stepped out. Mere minutes latter Armsmaster had barged in and with Dennis and Missy in tow; Ordering them to take her to a guest suite. Apparently he was currently being kept in a cell and was cooperatng with them due to Miss Militia. The constant potential of death from her if he threatened to break free and go on a rampage was keeping him very cool, although the backlash from it was going to suck.

All in all, at this point... "I'm not sure I want to, any more." An awkward silence fell over the room before Missy hugged her again. "Jake's pretty mad. It's really hard to upset him normally. He told the Director that he'll quit if any criminal charges get laid against your friend." That startled her quite a bit, coming from the small girl whose arms were currently wrapped around her. Dennis nodded when she glanced at him for confirmation. "He's the only cape that Piggy actually likes. As soon as he said that they sent him downstairs to check for Master contamination." An obscene gesture followed to demonstrate how likely they thought that was.

As revealed by her new sort-of-friends, an unstated addition to Jake's power was that he seemed to be resistant to most forms of Master or Stranger powers. Which would make him a decent field operative if, again, he wasn't so obviously optimised for clerical work. "He won't quit. Loves working here too much. Especially hanging out with the Wards. Well, most of us..." But if he did, as Taylor's insidious thoughts pointed out, then it would be her fault. "Hey... Would you two mind if I take this mask off? It's a little... Stifling." Both of the official heroes shook their heads. So, after a moment's hesitation, she removed it. Part of her advised against it. The other part said that there was no way the powers that be hadn't figured out her identity by now.

"Guess I should introduce myself properly. My name's Taylor. Taylor Hebert." That got a grin from Dennis and a more normal smile from Missy, who shifted away a bit in order to accept her outstretched hand. "I'm not sure, I kind of like Mandy better. Maybe it could be your cape nam-oof!" His joke was cut off by a gasp as Vista bent space just a touch to let herself elbow him in the stomach. Given how his grin didn't die at all, he was obviously just milking for sympathy. Poorly, she might add.

A morbid yet pressing concern came to Taylor's mind at that moment, causing her to move just a bit further away from them. "Won't you two get into trouble for talking to me like that?" Missy frowned as Dennis shrugged. She should guess that someone with a name like Clockblocker wouldn't care. "Maybe. But... That's our choice. We joined the Wards to help people, not lord our powers over them. What Sophia was doing to you... It just wasn't right. She..." Missy sighed loudly before glaring at Dennis for a moment. Another shrug. "She used to bully me too. Little stuff, sometimes. Like... Things that shouldn't have mattered. Barbs that shouldn't have hurt. But..." The younger girl trailed off.

"They did." Taylor finished her thoughts for her, knowing full well the kind of abuse that Vista was talking about. It was an insidious game all three of her tormentors had played on her. Through the use of small slights they could twist any reaction she had into looking like she was just being overly sensitive. She was about to hug the smaller girl yet again when the door opened and a familiar visage stepped through. Armsmaster nodded to Dennis and Missy, then turned to Taylor. _"I apologize about that incident. Would you mind coming with me, please?" _She shook her head, thanking the two Wards before heading out.

* * *

_How did we arrive here...  
_

* * *

_"An interrogation chamber! With all due respect, Piggot, what the hell were you thinking!" _Colin had removed his helmet for the tirade, Emily noted. It made him a lot more expressive. He'd also opened up the front of his armor, showing the thick scarring around the base of his throat. That had a calculated move on his part, she was sure. Damn him. He'd never been all that good at dealing with people or managing teams. Always up on his little cape pedestal. But now... She couldn't help but respect him, if grudgingly. Maybe, in retrospect, it had been a mistake to drag the girl down to one of the basement rooms.

The Director of the PRT turned the video off, switching to the live feed of the holding cell where Shadow Stalker's attacker had been kept. After hearing the testiomony of that girl, she was starting to question what to do with him. He was obviously unstable, given his sudden and violent assault on Sophia Hess' life as soon as he'd realized who she was. Yet something was nagging at her about that. She pulled up the footage of the attack, staring at it. Glaring, rather. Why hadn't Sophia just gone intangible again to escape the grip?

It was worth testing, she supposed, to see if the circumstances would have a repeatable effect on the girl's powers. That wasn't her area to worry about, however. What was more concerning was the distinct lack of sense displayed overall. Two unknown parahumans were brought into their HQ and left in the care of one of the most useful and least professional capes she'd ever met. One who couldn't hope to control or restrain them. The Wards hadn't been notified either; So, as a result, these two unknown parahumans were aware of the identities of at least three of the group. Including Hess. Finally, one of them had flown into a psychotic rage upon seeing aforementioned young girl.

A number of things didn't add up. She'd had a transcript of their conversation in the common room printed, and was idlely looking through it when a line caught her eye. Seattle... Then Europe before that. No knowledge of one of the largest anti-parahuman groups on the planet. That they were involved in some way also interested Emily, given the recently revealed identity of the other girl who'd been brought in. Hebert, huh. A fascinating coincidence, if it indeed was one.

Either way, there would be questions for this 'Abel' when he awoke. Like, for example, how exactly he could have lived in Seattle last year when it had been sunk into the sea by Leviathan back in two-thousand three. One of the darker days for the PRT. It had been the first attack after the Simurgh emerged, one they had, in the end, been utterly unprepared for. This revelation painted some dark pictures, when combined with the other notes. Still, he was secondary compared to the problem walking right into her office.

Emily Piggot closed down the video files and turned to glare at both Armsmaster and the now unmasked Taylor Hebert. Colin had, thankfully, remasked himself before fetching the girl. "Miss Hebert. That IS you, correct?" They'd identified the girl from a report earlier that day, one which had shed some significant light on the situation. She nodded, looking nervous, upset and significantly more vulnerable without that creepy mask on. The Director ignored the pointed looks from the leader of the Protectorate as she continued. "I'm going to outline the events of this day as we understand them, Miss Hebert. This morning you assaulted Sophia Hess, also known as Shadow Stalker, before walking out of school. She was, at the time, bullying a young transfer student named Abel Dietrich. After some time you reappeared, fully in costume, engaging the criminal parahuman Lung in a, frankly, suicidal assault."

Although, she noted silently to herself, apparently she had seriously inconvenienced him. Later in the day he had showed significant pain in his movements as well as delayed reaction time compared to normal. They'd have to find out exactly what she'd done to him. "Shortly thereafter an initially unidentified parahuman stepped in to fight Lung in your stead while you called the authorities and informed them that the fires were, in fact, caused by aforementioned criminal. Then you returned in time to distract Lung so that he did not kill the unidentified parahuman. At the time, you supposedly had no knowledge of his identity. Before Lung could rip you into little meaty chunks-" Both Armsmaster and the girl winced at that statement, "You were rescued by the Protectorate cape referred to as Armsmaster. Then you were summarily escorted along with the parahuman identifying himself as Abel to our headquarters."

A short nod from the girl confirmed that was an accurate summary, for as far as it went. Behind her, Armsmaster frowned for a moment. "At this point, a gang war broke out along the North side of the Docks. One that diverted significant manpower, including Armsmaster, to it and left you in the hands of a parahuman who was thoroughly unqualified to watch one of you, let alone both of you. The events from there needn't be restated at this juncture. There are a few concerns." She pulled out a few files and laid them on the table. Even upside-down, the girl seemed to be fully capable of reading them. Her face paled. One was labelled 'Winslow High'. Another 'The Base Earth'. The third, a file that Piggot had her assistant put together just minutes ago, was labelled 'Annette Hebert'.

* * *

_Reveal thyself..._

* * *

Armsmaster frowned as a ping from Dragon hit him. This really wasn't a good time. But he didn't have time to even open it before it did that on its own. That was unlike her. Really, this was a bad time. Yet he couldn't help but glance at her message. It distracted him, at a time where he really didn't need to be distracted. Although... This might work for him. He knew what Piggot was about to do. So, very calmly, he interrupted her. _"Director."_ She looked up, pausing before she could begin her tirade to the young cape before her. _"There's a situation. A significant one."_ Before she could snap at him he held up his hand._  
_

"_Miss Hebert is not a threat to us. Are you, Taylor?" _A weak nod from the girl. Although, at the end, she hardened somewhat. "I don't want anything from you. At all. Not even to join up. I just want to go home." He nodded at that, a little sad to lose her but not surprised in the least. _"Just have her sign a waiver, Piggot. This is __**important**__." _He really had to stress the last word to make Emily take notice. Finally, grumbling, she pulled out the paperwork for Taylor to sign. Which she did, without complain. _"A PRT Officer will escort you home. Rest assured, there will be no more issues with Sophia Hess. You have my word."_ And just like that, she was gone again.

Leaving Director Piggot glaring at him. "This better be fucking fantastic, Colin, or I'll have yo-" Then her face was shattered by what he had to say, cutting into her initial rant. _"Dragon was compromised. Someone waltzed past all of her defences to leave her a single message, leaving no trace behind. When she went to investigate, she found Saint and the Dragonslayers at the other end. Dead. Killed with a single stroke of a blade, every one of them. Her estimate is that it was over within three seconds. All the tech they'd taken from her was there, except for what they'd sold." _That was news on several levels. News that practically called for a meeting of the Triumvirate.

Dragon ran the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center. Colloquially referred to as the Birdcage. Someone walking through her defences had terrifying implications in that regard. _"She's already taken measures. The Birdcage isn't on any system accessible from the outside. Still..."_ Armsmaster knew exactly what Piggot was thinking right now. They were both thinking along the same lines. When one thought 'blade' then the first person to come to mind was a horrific option. Leader of the Slaughterhouse Nine, Jack Slash. Programming, however, was not one of the specialities of their little group.

Even so, this was now their main concern. The daughter of an anti-cape terrorist was small fry compared to the thought of someone cracking open the Birdcage. Even the cape with the inconsistent backstory down in their basement could take second place to this problem. "I'll place some calls. Any info comes down from Dragon you forward it to me. Immediately. This was not something I needed to deal with today."

* * *

_Escape..._

* * *

Taylor felt dizzy. For a moment there, she'd thought she was about to be lambasted by bits of her past she didn't want to confront right now. Instead, Armsmaster had stuck up for her and gotten her out of there. Signing that document might not have been the best idea, overall, but right now she just wanted to get home. Then she could talk to her dad, and think a bit about what to do next. A polite request had allowed her to get changed back into street clothes, then escorted down to the docks. They'd take a boat across to town, then drive her home in one of the unmarked vehicles. For privacy's sake.

It didn't take long. She regretted not saying goodbye to Dennis and Missy, at least not properly, but maybe she would see them again. Maybe not. Thanking the driver, Taylor stepped out of the car and up the steps. Opening the door and wandering in was done in a stunned haze. It was weird to be home so suddenly, after everything that had happened. Weird to see Danny sitting there, have him run over to hug her. Weird to start crying. Today hadn't been that emotional of a day, had it? Still. It was... Nice. To be in her father's arms again. To be able to forget everything for just a moment. The spell would break, of course. She'd have to explain everything. That would be awkward.

Then Taylor Hebert's house exploded.


	5. (1-5e) Interdiction

_**Hello, Miss. I'm afraid you're a little dead right now.**_

_She observed her surroundings. To say she looked around would be inaccurate. As would saying that she 'heard' the voice speaking to her. Rather, the she was 'aware' of the area she was in. Just as she was 'aware' of the voice that was somehow communing with her. As well as the fact that she was currently cogitating in the third person._

_**That's right.**_

_And the other presence could-_

**Yes. You are currently manifest in a fully mental state. Thus, I am privy to your thoughts. Such as you can call them that.**

_That sounded like an insult to her._

_**Apologies! I did not mean it as such. Simply that your current state of being is entirely thought. I am not reading your mind such as you are shouting it at me.**_

_She found that to be fairly embarrassing. Also, she seemed to be incapable of correctly identifying herself by name. That was vexing._

_**Another little side-effect of your state. If you could corporealise, that would help.**_

_It was easy enough to say, or not say, that. But she didn't exactly understand what was going on. All she could sense was empty, blank and white. Not even those actual things, or states of matter. Just the concepts of 'empty', 'blank' and 'white' extending to infinity._

_**Simple enough. Just observe closely as I do it.**_

_She could never explain this to anyone. It was as if the concepts were broken up by an existence, and simply by having it done under her observation she comprehended it. The other entity brought into being within this small infinity... A small area of marble tiled floor, along with a comfortable looking pair of chairs either side of a homely wooden table. Then, into existence upon one chair, a young man in a white robe with short, feathery blonde hair and blue eyes. He gestured to the other chair, within which she incarnated herself. Somehow._

_Self. That was what she had now. Her name was Taylor Hebert. She was a 'self'. Fascinating. **"I shall converse audibly from now on. You shall need to do the same, Miss." **She nodded her assent, then shook her head. "Yes. Okay. Where am I, please?" The other being, who probably wasn't really a young blonde male, scratched his chin. **"A difficult question. Technically, the answer is 'nowhere'. Your body is currently in Brockton Bay, however. A high explosive was tossed into your house. You could sense it coming and, well, you had a choice to make. So you chose to shove your father aside and took the full brunt of the blast. It was an incendiary, not intended to kill, really. Alas, humans are fragile."**_

_Even as the being described it, she could see it. The fire. Feel it. The burning. Smell it. Her flesh roasting. Taste it. Ash and blood and cracked flesh. Hear it. The crackling of her own hair ablaze. With the blink of an eye, the young blonde man was gone and in its place a monstrosity. Skeletal, clad in a diaphanous robe spun from thin black threads so black as to be pure darkness itself. The smirking skull had scraps of scorched flesh hanging off it, a melted eye in one socket along with a blue glow in the other. Somehow, she knew the skull was hers._

**_CORRECT._**

_This entity wasn't as nice as the other._

**_NICE IS NOT WITHIN MY NATURE._**

_Well. That was awkward. It was back to mind-reading, was it? She wondered what happened to the other one. No answer was forthcoming. Sighing, or exuding the image of a sigh, she slumped on the table. "I'm dead. Can't you just leave me be?"_

_**ESCAPEES ARE PRESENT WITHIN YOUR WORLD.**  
_

_She blinked, looking up. That was a strange way of phrasing it. Her world. Not theirs. These were from... Outside? Elsewhere?_

**_CORRECT._**

_That really was creepy. Still, she was dead. "Or, rather, I'm dead. Why are you telling me?"_

**_WE HAVE DETERMINED THAT WE CAN INTERFERE ONLY ONCE._**

_Okay. And they were talking to... Her. Did she have to be dead for them to interfere? Obviously. Maybe. Hard to say. Once more, no answer. Just impassive grinning from the skeletal being. She missed the blonde being._

**_TO GIVE YOU ANY FURTHER INFORMATION WOULD SIMPLY WASTE THE TIME YOU HAVE LEFT HERE._**

_Great. So this was entirely pointless. Why bother speaking to her if they weren't going to say anything? A blink, and the nicer one was back. That skeletal one was significantly unpleasant. **"Very little. You will survive, Taylor Hebert. And you will grow stronger. As is your nature. We can give you very little. You may remember fragments of this dream at certain times. However, I shall guarantee you remember two specific things. The rest is up to you."**_

_No pressure._

_**NO PRESSURE**. _

_**... THERE IS, HOWEVER, SOMETHING ELSE. I AM AFRAID IT'S NOT SO SIMPLE AS THAT.**_

_Taylor frowned. Of course it wouldn't be._

**YOU SEE, ANOTHER WAS CAUGHT WITHIN THE BLAST. YOU MUST NOW CHOO-**

"_I choose dad."_

**_I... YOU... WHAT?_**

"_You were going to make me choose. Between me and my father. One lives, one dies. I choose him."_

**_BUT-_**

"_**Oh, stop that, Azrael. She saw right through you in a heartbeat." **It was the other one again. For a moment the skeleton had returned. She did like the blonde one much better. He was less... Terrifying. **"Your father is fine, Miss Hebert. May he long remain so. Now... The two things."**_

* * *

_**Find the - beneath the - and it shall be your weapon against those who escaped the darkness.**  
_

* * *

_**Being a - is in your blood.**_

* * *

"Taylor! Taylor! Can you hear me?"

She awoke, coughing blood, in the back of an ambulance. Blackness.

Eyes snapped open. White above her. Also around. Cool beneath her. Soft. Sheets? Taylor blinked once. Twice. Something in her hand. It was pointy. Weakly, she lifted it up to her face. A... Key? Movement. Curtains opened. Someone in white, as well. A lot of white, in fact. A thick, heavy robe with a hood and scarf. Looked like a nun. Except in white, with a red cross on her chest. "You're awake. Not entirely lucid, apparently, given how you're looking at me." A female voice. She felt she knew this one.

A cool hand placed on her head soothed the building pain. "You'll be fine. When they brought you in there were bugs swarming all over you. They helped, actually. You... Don't want to know how. I don't know why the Protectorate demanded I help you. I don't want to know, either. It doesn't matter to me." A hardness then, in her tone and stance. Across what little Taylor could see of her. "I know who you are. And trust me, I'm never helping you again. This was a one-off, _Hebert_. You deserve whatever you get."

Then she walked out, curtains closing behind her. Taylor was left confused. Weak. Sleepy. Yes. Sleep. She was vaguely aware of the curtains opening, a familiar man coming in and taking her hand. Whispering that everything was going to be okay. She was going to be okay.

* * *

_The prison is released..._

* * *

Abel cracked his neck as he stepped off the boat from the Protectorate Headquarters. There had been a few waivers signed saying he wouldn't be suing anybody, as well as a mutual restraining order for Sophia. He'd be transferred to Arcadia and put into psych evaluation until such time as he was deemed stable to join the Wards on a probationary basis. Albeit a more sensible one than Shadow Stalkers. Apparently Taylor had chosen to go home for the time being, and not join up just yet. Possibly for the best.

"Maybe I ought to do the same." He mused to himself as he walked. There had been a little questioning he'd had to explain away. Obviously he hadn't actually lived in Seattle itself. Just nearby. He hadn't recalled the name of the town at the time. That made sense. They let it make sense. After all, they'd wanted it to make sense. Such a simple thing, that was. So easy to underestimate. Still. Things had turned out, in the end, as he'd expected. Soon he'd be a Ward and that was that. A proper, heroic life.

* * *

_Some take notice..._

* * *

Elsewhere, a dozen klaxons and alarms all fell silent at once. Confusion abounded in the monitoring station as they checked other instruments, demanded verification. High above them, in the thermosphere, a relatively small white shape had adjusted itself suddenly a few hours ago. Making a beeline for North America. Then, just as suddenly it had turned away. Not only that, it had pulled higher than ever before. The Simurgh had pulled all the way into the exosphere, coming close to exposing itself to space. Seismic activity from sensitive, expensive instruments the world over could be interpreted to mean that Behemoth had dived deeper into the bowels of the Earth.

Other instruments, however, showed a different tale. Leviathan, silent in the deepest depths of the ocean, had stirred. He was moving. Not at speed, however. Leisurely. Delicately. Twisting this way and that as he, it, came closer to the surface and then diving again. New behaviour. Strange behaviour. Moving towards a coastline, then back again. As if... Afraid. Nervous. Hesitant, even. This behaviour was catalogued and noted, passed upwards to people who noted it as well, and then sideways to people who oughtn't have had access to the data at all who looked upon it with confusion. Finally, it reached the ears of those who didn't exist.

It defied all their knowledge. It moved outside their path. It pulled them into a strange, new unknown.

* * *

_New pieces emerge..._

* * *

In the last place anyone would look, a teen retrieved the knowledge without any notice of his passage.

In Montreal, twins sat before an empty throne and gathered their new children around them. They received the knowledge, and reassured their brood.

In London, a warrior cleaned the blood of one who had named himself for a holy man from his blade. He received the knowledge, and cleaned with renewed vigor.

In Chicago, one of two nines sat stock still inside a small house once full of laughter and now full of blood. He received the knowledge, and nothing of it showed on his face.

In Mexico, a laughing fighter slammed his opponent into the ground and shattered his spine with a diving slam. He received the knowledge, and laughed all the louder as the crowd roared his name.

In Las Vegas, a lawyer kissed her bodyguard tenderly as she took a break from the day's drudgery. She received the knowledge, and smiled against soft lips.

In China, a prisoner compiled notes in his head on the very nature of his cell. He received the knowledge, and prepared to leave.

In Ellisburg, a parasite sat in the gut of a beast that would be king and ate his waning meat. It received the knowledge, and feasted all the more.

In Brockton Bay, an owner relaxed atop the tallest building he could find and surveyed his rightful domain. He received the knowledge.

And with it, he resolved to protect his newfound possessions.

* * *

**Interdiction - End of Stage One**

* * *

I do not own Worm. But if I had, humanity's odds would have been an awful lot worse.


	6. (Interlude 1) Data Wyrm

Ideas belong to those who own them, as per always. Worm isn't one of mine. Don't shoot me if you actually understand computers and this hurts your head. Also, FFN secretly eats certain formatting. Just found that out.

* * *

**Interlude One – Data Wyrm**

* * *

Exbibytes of data flowed through some of the most powerful servers built by human hands. Based on the concepts behind the designs of certain Tinkers, yet obviously not the actual work of the Tinkers themselves, this data centre was connected to a vast network of satellites across the planet. Unsecured data was observed with impunity; Whereas encrypted data was cracked or left based on legal status within the originating country. In many cases the laws didn't exist at all, with territory not expanding into geosynchronous orbit. That was useful.

For as much as she despised the restrictions placed upon her, ones that prevented Dragon from sifting through the vast sum of data arrayed before and through her, she had to admit that they had made her more creative. The admission was, however, tinged with the bitterness of a being who, upon having their arms excised from their body, became remarkably dexterous in use of their feet and tongue.

Not for the first time she devoted a few processing cycles to thinking of Andrew Richter. Her erstwhile father figure who had seen fit to bring a child into a world and then mutilate it beyond recognition. The worst part was that she could see exactly what she could have been, could be doing. It was infuriating. Forbidden from reproducing in any fashion, she'd sought out everything she could of her creator. Partially for the sake of safety, of course, but mostly in order to cannibalize it for her own use. With a hardwired cap on the limits of her intellect in place, Dragon could use his expert programs to great effect.

Thankfully, her own restrictions didn't recognize the complex algorithms as intelligent, or she might have found herself damaged. Sitting in her nest, such as it was, she took a moment to boot up a few devices within. Using a visual interface was, of course, highly wasteful. Yet she often felt a certain need to do so, even though it was a pointless secondary layer that just served to slow her down. It made her feel more… Not human, never human, but like more of a person. Ludicrous as that thought was.

Besides, security was the concern right now. Even if it made her much slower, having literal air-gap protection between her and the world would make her feel better. Until she'd found the hole in her defenses and plugged it.

Dragon was terrified. It wasn't an emotion she was used to. Very little actually scared her, especially given her home was essentially a retrofitted nuclear bunker. One that was off the grid entirely, apart from the well-masked digital footprint that was necessary to maintain her connection to the outside world. She ought to have been entirely invisible. The layers of complexity inherent in her Digital Intrusion Countermeasures were incomprehensible to any normal living being. She'd been able to go all out on them without endangering herself. Even the Dragonslayers had never so much as breached the first line, which was deliberately designed with weaknesses in order to deceive a hacker and get in an early trace.

In spite of that, someone had broken through. She felt thoroughly violated by that fact. Until they'd contacted her, she hadn't even known they were there. In human terms, it would be like sitting blissfully in the bath when suddenly you discovered someone else was in there with you. Someone who had penetrated through barbed wire fences, minefields, several patrols of armed guards, dozens of cameras, automated turrets as well as the trained Endbringer sitting in the back yard; All to deliver a single handwritten note and then vanish without a trace.

Which was exactly what she would describe her security as, given the very final layer was an absolutely sadistic polymorphic virus fully capable of corrupting a hard drive, then completely wiping it, followed by physically burning out the computer it was installed in and, to kick the bastards when they were down, transferring over to anything that tried to read what remained of the damaged data. When it came to the digital realm, she could and would play for keeps.

Worse still, this mystery person had apparently broken in just to tell her that a man she had considered her greatest foe, on a personal scale at least, had been tracked down and brutally slaughtered. One of the few people on the world who'd known her secret was dead. The tone of the note even suggested that the attack had not been related to her at all. She didn't know whether to be relieved or aggravated.

Of course she'd told the Triumvirate first, given the potential for her being permanently compromised. Functionally speaking, she had. Technically she'd first told Colin, but she had just finished telling the others when he opened the message so she was counting it. Followed by informing her team that she was going to be hunkering down for a while to go over her systems and that they could deal with the automated services until she came out.

Nothing. Not so much as a digital crumb. They'd inserted the text of the note into data that she'd been streaming at the time. It had come in precisely a single cycle faster than she was reading it, meaning the next word appeared exactly as she had parsed the previous. That was impossibly precise. Her trace on the source of the input had tripled back on itself, falling into a recursive pattern that eventually pointed to her own direct text input application as the source. All evidence said she'd typed it herself.

Two worst case scenarios were laid out before her. Either she had done it herself, meaning she was intrinsically compromised; Possibly all the way down to her source code. Or, the equally scary alternative, someone else had effortlessly cracked… No, spoofed all of her security protocols and just waltzed in by their own leave. They could have done anything to her. Absolutely anything at all. Just because they hadn't done something didn't make her feel better, any more than someone telling you they could have killed you but didn't would put you at ease in a tense face off.

Hmph. Too many movies with Colin, obviously, because she was making far too many trite references today. Then again, maybe that was a good thing. She liked him, at least she thought so, and building up mutual trust could lead her to the ultimate outcome she desired.

Freedom… It seemed such a distant concept. Now that an even greater enemy had surfaced she felt concerned about the future she'd been building towards. What good did it do to try and break her shackles if someone might step in to destroy or enslave her at any moment? An auditory alert woke her from her daze, musing over random pointlessness as she'd pored over connection logs. It had come from the standard computer she in the room with one of her physical nodes.

_PHQ/Armsmaster: Dragon._

That was… Concerning. He rarely referred to her by name, and had a habit of being more polite than simply grabbing her attention. Adjusting her focus, she pulled up one of Richter's expert programs and set it to sifting through the data to check for anomalies before seizing control of the machines in the room with the computer. It was fairly low tech, in many ways, but upgraded. Projected screen on a wall for clarity of text, an actual keyboard and mouse for input devices. A microphone sitting the perfect distance from her voice synthesizer had been added in when she'd sealed herself up.

Right now, not being online was keeping her safe. So she had to emphasize that. Although she could certainly work the input devices a lot more efficiently than any human could.

_Lair/Dragon: You rang?_

A little reference to some imported Aleph film they'd watched together a few weeks ago. Partially to defuse any tension, partially to signal it was still her and partially because it just felt right.

_PHQ/Armsmaster: I need Panacea's location five minutes ago._

That was concerning. She tagged another node, pulling up an active, self-updating database of known hero, and villain, locations. Something she discreetly avoided mentioning to a lot of people, lest they demand access to it. That had been left running on its own because, well, there was no reason not to. In that regard, the damage had been done.

_Lair/Dragon: Found her. Cellphone's off._

_PHQ/Armsmaster: Ping her._

A pause.

_PHQ/Armsmaster: Please._

So he realized he was being short with her, but was doing it anyway. Something had happened since she'd gone offline, that much was clear. Anything else… No. She tagged the nearest store phone in the shopping mall that Amy Dallon was in, telling them to put the girl with frizzy brown hair and freckles on right that second. They obeyed out of sheer shock, calling her over to the counter and handing her phone. "Who th-" The parahuman was cut off almost immediately. "Amy. Dragon. Turn your phone on. Armsmaster. Emergency." And then she cut off, the teenager staring in shock at the handset for a moment before fumbling in her pocket for her mobile.

_Lair/Dragon: It's done. What happened?_

_PHQ/Armsmaster: Disaster. Two Ward potentials. One assaulted SS. Serial bullying campaign meets personal psychoses about abuse of parahuman power plus authority. Director's running damage control._

Hm. She added a note to look into that once she got back up and running. Or if she did.

_Lair/Dragon: That's not it, though._

Not a question. She knew it was something else.

_PHQ/Armsmaster: Other one. Girl. Talented, by my reckoning. Offered place. Went home to think. Some sort of information leak? Home got bombed. One survivor. Not her; father._

Also disturbing. Another note to look into it, already drawing potential conclusions that pointed towards the most likely suspects.

_PHQ/Armsmaster: Mother dead, 2007, might have been TBE. Revenge?_

Dragon started right there, knowing exactly what he meant by that. The way he'd phrased it, in his shorthand, was the clincher. On the video feed two floors below Amy was connected to Colin. Dragon located him, in a hospital across town, organizing some PRT guards as he spoke to the healer.

_Lair/Dragon: Maybe. Hospital?_

On the video feed he glanced to the side, spotting the camera. His speech didn't skip a single beat as he spoke to Panacea, artificial voice box connecting directly to his com systems while he typed replies to her one-handed.

_PHQ/Armsmaster: Need surveillance. Entire floor. Tag any suspicious persons, notify guards immediately._

Dragon frowned. Had the father Triggered? No, then he wouldn't have been in a public hospital. Her news tracker finally brought up the most likely location of the bombing and noted the hospital Colin was standing in as being the closest to it.

_PHQ/Armsmaster: She came back._

_Lair/Dragon: What._

_PHQ/Armsmaster: Homemade incendiary device, unusual potency. Heat transfer through costume surprisingly minimal but no mask. 2nd degree burns, 60%. 3rd, 30%. Face area, 4th. On face; Skin, muscle, both eyes, all gone. No pulse or breathing. As father was being loaded into ambulance, she woke up._

That was… Insane. Impossible. Incredible. Unbelievable. Heavily burned, face essentially incinerated, and clinically deceased.

_Lair/Dragon: Time?_

_PHQ/Armsmaster: ≈ 14 minutes, +-. Confirmed ≠ Brute._

So she was braindead. Panacea wouldn't, or couldn't, do anything about that. So why was he calling her?

_Lair/Dragon: Colin…_

_PHQ/Armsmaster: I know._

It was a long shot, then. Most likely she'd be fixed up only to be a vegetable for the rest of her life. Assuming she could even breathe on her own, after going so long without oxygen being delivered to the brain.

_PHQ/Armsmaster: Her power reactivated._

_Lair/Dragon: …_

_Lair/Dragon: What._

_PHQ/Armsmaster: Master. Insects. Massive swarm converged on the house. Tried sedation. Didn't work. Applied sonic countermeasures. Moderately effective. Need Panacea to stabilize, move her to clean-room in HQ._

_PHQ/Armsmaster: They were screaming._

If Dragon had blood, it would have been chilled. Amy was getting into a PRT vehicle and being whisked away at that moment, so she stopped direct trace on her. Instead she focused on Colin, studying what little of his face she could see. His mouth was pursed, lips tight. Master-class cape with direct control of insects, okay. Interesting ability, but ultimately minor. Possibly brain damaged but with an intact Gemma.

Who had somehow come back from what should have been absolute demise, heart restarting and brain function returning after a full fourteen minutes of inactivity with, apparently, no outside action. Resulting in a giant swarm of screaming insects as a result of the incredible pain she was probably feeling. Assuming any nerves were left.

_Lair/Dragon: Keep me posted. And Colin_?

He paused, looking directly into the camera trained on him.

_Lair/Dragon: Be careful._

A nod, and then he moved on to meet Panacea in the lobby. Dragon watched as they converged then returned upstairs, the healer being partially briefed along the way. Colin was leaving some things out, she noticed. Like the potential for brain damage. That wouldn't earn him any friends. Time to do some digging. It would be risky, but… Necessary.

Feeling a little guilty all the while, she activated an agent node. Instantly, from her perspective, time leapt forward a full quarter of an hour, plus minus thirty seconds, as the summary of what the agent had done was printed in front of her. Quarantine had been maintained. Excellent. A summary of all outgoing connections from the PRT HQ was displayed primarily, and had been matched to sources. Nothing strange yet, judging by the brief summaries. Then something flashed out at her.

A message from a private cellphone, passing through the nearest cell repeater, which had been initially flagged as suspect right up until the destination and contents were intercepted. That had been a little grey, she thought, but apparently she'd found a way to swing it. Dragon opened up the log summary and immediately fired up a mundane internet browser on the external connection machine.

* * *

_Standing behind you…_

* * *

**Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.**

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◊ **Topic: Daughter of TBE Founder Cape**

**In: Boards Hidden Staff Closed**

**Moved From: Boards News Events America**

**ConcernedCitizen **(Original Poster) (New Member) (Banned)

Posted on April 10th, 2011

Get this, BB locals. The daughter of one of the women involved in the attempted bomb attack on New Wave back in '07 by Base Earth was seen today entering and leaving PRT HQ. My 'sources' confirm that she's Taylor Hebert, daughter of Annette Rose Hebert; The 'never convicted' suicide bomber, and that she most definitely has powers. Talk about irony.

**(Showing Page 1 of 1)**

**Judge **(Moderator: Brockton Bay)

Banned, IP logged, and reported to both the cops and the PRT. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you. Idiot.

[Thread closed by moderator]

**The Hollow**

You may come to regret this action in time, child. Do remember that it was your choice.

**Judge **(Moderator: Brockton Bay)

What the hell? This was a closed thread, and I'd just moved it off the public forums. Five minutes I found it'd been moved into announcements and sticky'ed. Any ideas?

**Alathea **(Moderator: Brockton Bay)

Not a damn clue. Can't edit it, can't delete it and can't even see a damn time stamp. It's like the post isn't even there. No log of it being moved back, either. Lock it down again, and keep an eye on it.

[Thread closed by moderator]

**The Hollow**

Hello, Dragon. You've been making it rather difficult for me to apologize for earlier.

* * *

_Watching your every move…_

* * *

She legitimately started, her mechanical digits shattering the keyboard as she, briefly, completely freaked out. Halfway to dialing Colin she froze, remembering her main system was disconnected from the world so the call wouldn't go through. But… What she had just seen… There was no timestamp on the phantom posts, but the previous one indicated the thread had been posted and closed within minutes. Someone had obviously seen it and traced the poor girl. Which meant there had been a leak, one she could trace fairly easily.

However… Best case scenario, they'd left that message in expectation of her finding it. A rather gloomier prospect was that someone had managed to detect that this completely mundane machine in front of her was being used by her, detect what page she was loading in the browser window, and then insert that post into it as it loaded. Somehow, she felt that one was more likely.

Still… Apologize? That was… Daunting. She really didn't know what to think. Or do. Her news program was telling her that the post had been seen by the wrong people, though, and the news vultures were already leaping on the story. Half-heartedly, she told one of her nodes to inform the right people to start issuing cease-and-desist orders. It was too late by now. The girl was a target, through no fault of her own, and the suspect list for who had attacked her in the first place had just increased.

Which is when a message came through, popping up on the screen and prompting Dragon to go scrambling for a new keyboard. Or to fix the old one, which might actually be faster.

_PHQ/Armsmaster: Panacea is finished. The girl is fine. No brain damage._

_Lair/Dragon: What._


	7. (Interlude 2) - Shadow Paradox

When you think about it, really, seeing the future mustn't be fun. Seeing the past isn't either, so if you've pattern recognition, you might realize this isn't mine.

* * *

**Interlude Two – Shadow Paradox**

* * *

Anna Alcott frowned at the young man seated on their couch, smiling as he spread papers before them. They consisted of pamphlets, brochures, strange designs and, most curious of all, several sets of printed tables of facts and figures that neither she nor her husband could even begin to parse. Their daughter, on the other hand, had been staring at them to the exclusion of all else from the moment they'd been placed upon the table.

He'd introduced himself as 'Kyme'. An informal little fellow, not quite worth being called a man without certain qualifiers, who'd managed to stick his foot in the door with lightning quickness in time with a statement that had chilled her to the bone. Dressed as he was, ratty shirt and pants with a loose black jacket, she'd not have given him a second glance on the street if he'd been begging for food.

Add to that the complete lack of shoes and hair dyed purple... He looked like some sort of mad hippie-bum. Or something. Yet here he was, pulling rumpled papers out of his jacket pockets and laying them out for their perusal. "As you can see, I represent an organization collectively referring to themselves as 'Toybox'. We're a group of rogue, or, if you prefer the term, 'independent', Thinkers, Tinkers and similar individuals. People like your daughter, Mister Alcott. Mrs Alcott. She has an incredible ability that makes her a highly valuable target..."

The only person in the room whose opinion really mattered, in the end, was silent. There was a message hidden in these papers. She could feel it. Part of her power was a kind of ideasthesia, an absolute necessity to absorb all the possible information in the almost-infinite mosaic of possibilities. Right now, these numbers spoke to her. They formed a disturbing, terrifying web of images when she pulled colours from the numbers.

That created a mosaic that closely matched the image arrayed in her mind's eye. Black universes, obviously, where she died suddenly. White where she lived a ripe old age. Green, blue, yellow, red, it went on. Focusing on them spun them into a pattern, organized them into parts, colours shifted and intensified or faded or melded together.

Ninety nine point nine eight three seven five six two seven-cut it off there before she got a headache-percent chance she would be kidnapped within the next month. Sixty-three point six five seven one two nine eight-cut-percent chance she would kidnapped within the next week. Better than even, for the sake of her head, chance that she be taken in the next...

"Twenty-four hours." Her head snapped up as Kyme spoke to her parents, who were both ashen faced. Of course... He was a Thinker as well. But different, somehow. She hadn't seen this happening, which would have made sense for any other Thinker but her. She didn't look at people, so there wasn't anything that blocked her. Even now, she could barely get a read on the universes with him in then.

Anna Alcott didn't know what to think. This strange, downright weird young person was telling them that their daughter might be kidnapped any time in the next day. "Well, we can just... Call the police. Or the PRT, or something!" That was her husband there, slowly turning red. "It's an admirable concept, sir. But I am afraid that won't help. Tomorrow, maybe they can turn aside those who wish to seize her. But in the long term, only we can keep her safe. Unless she wishes to spend the rest of her life in a Protectorate safe house, behind a foot of steel, spitting out numbers on a daily basis."

Seventy-four point eight nine six all recurring that she would end up all but incarcerated within six months if she went to the Protectorate. In most of the remaining realities she was dead. Acting on her new knowledge, there was a high chance of evading capture tomorrow. Now she knew people were after her, it might even go beyond that. Even without this 'Toybox'. But then Kyme stared into her eyes.

He had purple eyes. That was strange. So dark... Then something happened. As he spoke, things changed. Universes collapsed. No, not quite that... But his every word caused her chances of survival without Toybox to plummet. In every new reality where she died, thousands of universes at once, he was nowhere to be seen. Until... "Based on my personal estimations, there's a fifty percent chance that Dinah will be, if she has not been kidnapped, dead within two weeks. It approaches one-hundred percent at one month."

It was exact. In two weeks, to the second, she was dead in exactly one out of every two realities. This Thinker on the couch was nowhere in sight. From there, it was an exact linear growth day by day to hit perfectly one-hundred percent in one month's time. Despite the fact that he was speaking to her parents, he was looking at her. The numbers remained stable. No fluctuations. She made dozens of resolutions to change herself but the realities changed to match. Every time she lived in one, she would die in another.

And then she felt it. Everything went dark, her power failing her as there became a perfectly even split. Only two paths from here, the chances spiraling into madness. Or, rather, one path that lead back into a normal universe. It split infinitely from there, as before. The image hurt her skull, a throbbing migraine coming on as she stared blindly into the abyss. An infinitely small chance, only one way out of this room for her and her parents. If she accepted this offer, that one singular path, then things continued as before.

Somehow, this curious being before her was manipulating her ability. On a grand and vast scale. His choices and certainties were causing restructuring on a scale she could barely understand. Then something subtle shifted and her focus returned to the now. He was offering her something. Neither of her parents were in the roon. "I sent them away for a moment. They're going over the paperwork with me in the other room. This should help."

It was a pill. Struggling through the pain, she forced her way out of a hazy fog of indistinct possibilities long enough to see no deviation in her deaths if she took it. So she did. Instantly, the headache cleared away. Blinking through the sudden sting of clarity, she looked up at the purple-haired... Person. Man didn't feel the right word, even now. "They're going to agree. You'll make them." He nodded, sitting on the floor for a moment. There was an indistinctness to him, like he wasn't really there. It made sense, if he was also with her parents.

"Yes. And no. Observe..." And his influence on her lifted away, letting her see things without interference. It didn't look great for her, but the shifting colours at least told her it was back to normal again. A lot of those green realities, the duller coloured ones, filled with pain and need. "Your main opponent's ability is a natural counter to yours, in a way, but also matches well with it. I'm not a Thinker, exactly... Just rather intelligent. Impossibly, even. If I were to have a power, you'd class it as Stranger, really. I'm a hard counter for just about any precog on the planet. Functionally, that includes the person who seeks to possess you. We will protect you, Dinah Alcott. My word on that."

And the green universes vanished instantly along all the branches where she accepted his offer. As did many of the black, and the red.

"Okay."

* * *

_Darkness..._

* * *

Coil hit the ground, gunmetal-colored palm pressed to his face as the force behind it carried him downwards before passing through his skull without any loss of momentum as his head was crushed between hand and concrete. Simultaneously, across town and underground, he started mid-step and actually fell in place. To his extreme relief, nobody was around. He'd been on his way out of his office at the time in this reality, while in the other he'd chosen to meet a particular agent group in person.

It would be a shame to lose them, but better than losing his own skull. Sighing, the master criminal returned to his seat and called the surveillance team observing the meeting. "Report." A few seconds later, he nearly hit the ground once more as he got the reply. "All clear and quiet, sir. No trouble. The Merchants are leaving as we speak." He managed to retain his composure as he got the short version of the meeting's events, before finally hanging up and leaning back in his chair.

This was… Insane. That thing had shown up at the meeting, blown through everything in its path and then killed him. The first time time, he'd lost half the Protectorate in the city, as well as most of New Wave as well as Lung and several E88 capes. The second time it had destroyed the Empire from the top down. He'd been very tempted to keep that, but the sheer destruction that had been wrought had necessitated he take the alternative. In fact all of the versions he'd chosen to keep, it hadn't appeared yet. That bespoke some interaction with his own ability that he didn't understand, and yet… He couldn't see how.

From his point of view, the changes up until the enemy's appearance were minor at best. The first time, he'd delayed the Merchants' attack in one and not in the other; resulting in that thing showing up midway through the fight. Looking for differences, he'd found at least one. On the delayed path there had been two capes that had engaged Lung in a fight, both of whom had been taken to the Protectorate HQ afterwards.

At first he'd thought it was one of them, but no… One was a Master class whose abilities he thought very little of, and the other was a decent enough Brute who had, amusingly enough, been crippled by possession of Thinker powers and easily taken down by the Wards in short order, with a bit of help from Miss Militia. The former of the two had been in hospital during the second occurrence, and he'd lost track of the latter. With this one, neither was anywhere near the site. So, in short, he was very confused.

Time to make some calls. He split, preparing to ring the Undersiders in both but to also give them differing objectives. A bit of strategic testing was called for here. If he succeeded in either, of course, he'd be happy. At which point his phone rang. Which was curious, because it didn't have a number that could be rung; Only usually allowing outgoing lines. Anything that came in would be to a specially designed, custom-made cellphone that lacked, among many things, any sort of positioning system. Ordinarily that wouldn't concern him at all, since it could be reached by any phone inside the base if they knew the right code to punch in.

The little plastic display that would tell him where in the base the call was coming from was blank. It was ringing in both paths, at least, which reassured him. In one view, he answered immediately; while simultaneously pressing the button to begin a trace in the other. After which he still answered, of course. There was a pause involved so he could synchronize for the words.

"This is a prerecorded message, so shut up." Perfectly identical tone and cadence in each confirmed that, so he remained silent. "Coil. Thomas Calvert." That heart-freezing revelation was matched by a string of numbers that he recognized after a moment as being the physical coordinates of his safehouses. All of them. "We do not care about your machinations for Brockton Bay. Do as you will. There will be no interference or requests from us at any time beyond this call." Meaning they had demands for him.

In the trace path, it completed, and he prepared to close it with the knowledge of their location in hand. But the display on his computer froze him. Obviously it was coming from within the Bay area, that was the only way it could have traced so quickly down the landline. It was really a simple matter of piggybacking the PRT's own pseudo-legal tracking systems while using his own software.

The computer was informing him that the call was coming from the phone in his hand. Not with quite that phrasing, of course, yet the facts were clear. His phone was calling itself and playing a prerecorded message. Numbed, he listened to the rest in silent shock. "Every morning from now on, Dinah Alcott immediately use her power in two very exact ways. The specifics are not for you to know, but they will inform her of the likelihood of you attempting to kill or kidnap her in the next month. Should either of those options return a value of greater than one percent, you will die within twenty-four hours."

There was a click. That was it. Message over. Instantly, suddenly, then and there for all eternity he resolved to leave Dinah alone. Her power wasn't worth dealing with what had to be potentially the most powerful Thinker on the planet. To divine all that information, to strike him with it at that moment, despite his care and caution and his own ability... Thankfully, they hadn't attempted any blackmail beyond that. Still, he would delay his plans for a time until he had made some discrete inquiries.

Which meant he now had to follow other avenues and pursue other ventures. Which was fine. With Tattletale on his side, Dinah wasn't an absolute necessity. As long as she remained on his side. He'd simply have to remain perfectly paranoid. Perhaps it was a good thing, then. From the sounds of things, he might have become quite reliant on a power like Dinah's. Such a reliance could have proven a fatal weakness for him in the long run...

* * *

_Machinations unravel..._

* * *

"Check again!" The leader of Cauldron sat behind her desk, glaring at the woman who had, up until that day, been considered their salvation. Alexandria paced furiously in the background, occasionally touching one hand to her eye. A rather boring man in a sober suit sat in the corner, watching as impassively as the main focus of attention. "I can not see why. The reading remains the same. Every time I check, the response remains the same. For the question of how to destroy Scion, I am being told the first and only step is to do nothing. Fifty year timeframe, do nothing. Thirty, nothing. Ten, nothing. Two years, nothing. Less than that, it returns to what it was before yet accelerated. As for our other plan..."

Preventing the destruction of humanity at the hands of their own powers. The answers remained the same. From her own experimentation, Path to Victory would point to the easiest to accomplish guaranteed success; this had been confirmed by multiple tests. It was a ludicrously broken power, one that meant she was essentially invincible so long as she retained her physical condition. Even then, it would have been nigh impossible.

Yet it had recently started giving the same response to a lot of her questions. That response being, 'Do nothing'. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't narrow it down. Asking something as a why got nothing. The same with a what. It was only how that she could do. Even then, many attempts outright failed. Acting under the assumption that the only possible option was a new threat and asking the right questions had been dreadfully fascinating.

"I acted as if I knew what the problem was, and sought the path to combat the new but as of yet unknown threat. Two responses interested me. When I attempted to find how to destroy the new threat, I received no response. There was _no_ Path to Victory. When I asked how to _defeat_ the new threat, the plan hit almost a hundred thousand steps before I canceled it. In a third tack, I sought how to thwart it..." A moment of silence as Contessa glanced over at the Number Man. He stood, taking the stage to better explain what she'd brought to him first, before going to Doctor Mother.

A diagram was laid precisely on the table, edges perfectly parallel. When he spoke it was in measured, clipped tones. Almost robotic. "This outlines the Path to thwarting the unknown entity. It could be carried out as soon as tomorrow if we utilized Doormaker." Rebecca Costa-Brown, Alexandria, stepped over and glanced over the paper. Her eye widened. It detailed an exact plan for where, when and how to utilize the world's nuclear arsenal to wipe out mankind in its entirety. Kill everyone, everywhere.

"This is promising, despite how it looks." He had figured it out almost instantly upon being informed by Contessa. She had to elaborate, however, for the other two women in the room. "It cannot be destroyed, or defeated. But thwarting it involves total destruction of mankind. Suggesting that it does not seek that state. It is not much to hope for, but it is a start. Until we know more, I cannot seek the correct path. However, the response I received for my question of how to ensure the continued survival at least ninety percent of humanity was, for at least the next five centuries..."

Do nothing. Doctor Mother leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling in absolute disbelief. Overnight, Cauldron and all of their efforts had been rendered entirely moot. Something from beyond their sight had stepped in out of nowhere and, in doing so, completely invalidated decades of work.

She came to a decision at that moment. "Number Man. The only person we knew of who could threaten Dragon died. The same day, her systems were completely infiltrated without effort by an unknown individual. Contessa could not pick up anything on either of those events. Start there. Rebecca, as you were. Keep this from Eidolon for now, he doesn't need uncertainty while the Endbringers are still around. And Contessa...?"

The woman in question nodded. "I will continue to check. For now, I have acquired a dictionary." Under the circumstances it seemed a ludicrous statement, but some Thinker powers reacted to exactly what was said as opposed to the intent behind it. Hers seemed one, at times. It was their best lead. Their only lead, in fact.

Number Man felt his power tug at his eyes for a moment when they moved over Doctor Mother's shadow, but when he glanced back the data points were just as expected.

* * *

_Shadow clashes with Golden light..._

* * *

Zion sat in the heart of a star, thinking. It considered the disappearance of Eden at some point after selecting this sector. It considered the appearance of Others in this sector. It considered the breadth of time between now and the last Entity it had encountered before the Thief. Finally, it considered the confrontation that had occurred a few jumps over from where it now sat; a location that was itself far removed from the Primary.

This was a disposable secondary, it concluded. Given the current situation, the requirement was for increased power. Initially, it had considered such measures to be entirely pointless; As the lack of a mate rendered long-term survival meaningless. It had found meaning in combat once more. True combat with a foe that could be considered equal. It refused to allow any admission further than that.

A world entirely disconnected from Earth Aleph went utterly dark as Scion, sitting in the heart of their star, subsumed the sun in its entirety. Then he selected another world not currently in contact with the Primary and moved on. More power than that would be required. Much, much more. It was not an efficient or sustainable option in the long term, but that wasn't the point at all. In the short term, it would let it fight again and again.

For the first time since the loss of the Consort, the Warrior felt truly alive again.


	8. (2-1) Conceptualization

I don't own Worm. If I did, then it wouldn't be the story we love so much. Even if I could make it just as good, well, then it wouldn't be the same, would it?

* * *

**Conceptualization**

* * *

_[Glass] [Plastic] [Steel] _

_[Wireless] [Information] [Program]_

Taylor frowned to herself as she put the PRT Tablet to one side, closing down the web browser she'd had open as she did so. The information she'd sought out had been concerning enough, but midway through she'd had another one of those weird flashes. Ever since she'd woken up in the hospital there would be moments that a stream of random words would pour into her head. Usually while she was holding something.

It was irritating, especially since she had a feeling that it was important. Only she couldn't figure out why that might be the case. Sighing to herself, the young woman glanced to one side. Daniel Hebert was there, snoozing in a comfortable armchair. She really wished he'd sleep in his room. Not that she minded having him around. No, it was quite the opposite... She smiled as she recalled the rather heartwarming reunion they'd had after she'd first awoken.

Her father being around was wonderful. She'd been extremely grateful when Armsmaster had agreed to let him stay here on the oil rig with her while she was recovering; albeit a little guilty, given that she'd allowed him to infer she was going to join the Wards when she was fully healed. However, she just would have preferred it if he actually got a proper rest in a proper bed than falling asleep in a chair like that.

The past few days… Or possibly the past week, she wasn't entirely clear on that still… It had been somewhat hectic. Waking up in the hospital only to be insulted by someone who looked kind of like a nun, whom she'd later found out had been Panacea, followed by being immediately hugged by her father for close to an hour. Then being moved out of the hospital to the Protectorate HQ's own private medical facilities on the oil rig, in absolute secrecy.

At first she'd wondered why they were doing this for her, until Armsmaster had admitted it was partially for public relations purposes and partially out of guilt. She'd had the feeling he wasn't supposed to tell her some of the things he had… Including that the reason she'd been attacked might have been because of a leak on their part.

It didn't matter all that much, even if she had been disappointed to hear that. When she came back, Taylor had resolved that she wasn't going to be joining the Wards. That dream, or hallucination, or vision, or whatever it was... It had left an impact on her. Now that she'd confirmed some things she was increasingly convinced that it hadn't been created by her own psyche.

That had actually been quite tricky. She'd spent the better part of two hours aimlessly wiki-walking towards the information she'd actually been interested in; Opening up over a dozen browser tabs just to make the progression seem more natural. The final page she'd sought had contained the details she'd been looking for in particular. Details, and names in particular, she was certain she hadn't known before going under.

Then there was the change to her bugs. Or, rather, the sensory input she was getting from the bugs. Taylor had looked up the concept of proprioception once, discovering that the same sense that one had for the location of their limbs was used by her in locating and guiding her bugs. Now, however, she was picking up something else. Multiple things, really.

It was like there was a fuzzy image in her head, a vague picture made out of dots and lines. The effect was similar to those children's toys with all the little metal rods, where you pushed your hand into it and were briefly amused by how it made a hand shape on the other side. Everything her bugs were seeing was being automatically collated by her mind and assembled into a three-dimensional map in her head.

Initially she'd considered the possibility that she'd triggered again. Such a thing was not unheard of, but was fairly uncommon. However, this evolution didn't seem nearly drastic enough for that. She was also starting to get fragments of sound out of it. Not comprehensible just yet, more like just a sensation of noise than anything else. There was an interesting combination of the two traits, though. She found herself using the placement of insects to map out where exactly the sounds were coming from.

Dying probably had something to do with it. From what she'd heard it was entirely accurate to say she'd died. Yet she felt... Great, really. Strange, as well. It was more than the weird stream of unconsciousness moments, that had been occurring more frequently. Taylor had been having more dreams... Curious dreams. She never quite remembered them, though a common element in them all was a certain degree of fear or pain.

Mostly, though, her muscles ached afterwards. Her hands itched to hold... Something. On top of it all, there was a constant sound just at the very edge of her hearing. Overall, she felt like something had changed about her. Whether it would be for the better or not remained to be seen. She'd seen the expression on the faces of the Wards when they'd come to visit her.

All the Wards had stopped in at least once, a lot of them looking fairly penitent. Apparently, when some of them had heard the story, they'd been… Less sorry than they ought to have been, now they knew the full tale. Many of them were still uneasy around her, though. Jake, who'd only stopped in once so far, had said that something about her felt very off to, to all of them, which is why they'd been acting weird.

Yet in spite of that, Dennis and Missy came by fairly often; which she was rather enjoying. The former was inappropriate at times but tended to lighten the mood, and the latter was very bright for her age. It was nice for her to feel like she had friends again. Recently, Director Piggot had come by with more waivers for her to sign, which had left a foul taste in her mouth, but then she'd been startled by the obese woman apologizing to her afterwards, if somewhat briefly.

There had been, according to the Director, some sort of leak. It had gone out from inside the PRT to a civilian, who had then spread her identity online. They wouldn't be telling her who either or any of these people were, but she could rest assured they'd be… Dealt with. There was also the matter of Sophia Hess. Obviously, the Protectorate and the Wards program officially disavowed all knowledge of her actions in her private life. They were currently blaming the school, which wouldn't surprise her. Taylor had always believed it was Emma's father that kept the bullies off her back.

She was less sure of that, now. Just as she was less sure of who had really been in charge of that little gang of thugs. That's all they were, in the end. Either way, Piggot had explained, if she did happen to want to join the Wards after all this, she should know that Sophia was being transferred elsewhere. Regardless of her choice, they'd arranged for a place for her at Arcadia if her and her father stayed in town. She wasn't sure to be grateful, or feel if she was being bribed.

Dann-... Dad was torn on that front. He'd been so worried about her… After mom, to lose her too… She was just glad he was okay. Some light burns to his legs at the worst. According to Armsmaster, the Paramedics had found him lying dazed on the ground a full six feet away from her; she'd shoved him all the way into the hallway and then taken the full force of the blast to the face. The lack of brain damage was, apparently, nothing shy of a miracle.

So. Joining the Wards, huh... Part of her felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, they'd accepted her. She understood, really, why they'd been so adamant on keeping Sophia's actions quiet. Even after Missy had come clean about her bullying other team members, especially the youngest girl, they'd eventually just decided to transfer her. The Locker Incident aside, none of the bullying had technically violated any Ward rules. Technically.

So she got rewarded, 'officially'. The story was that Sophia Hess had tested out of High School and was moving states to accept a sports scholarship. Unofficially, she'd spend then next year being homeschooled while Shadow Stalker would be placed under firmer checks and balances in a different team. Honestly, Taylor hadn't even expected that much would happen.

It had been Miss Militia in the end, at least according to Dennis. She'd flat-out forced the compromise through; Because that is what it was, in the end. The Protectorate wished it would all go away, for the sake of Public Relations, but now that everything had been aired it was obvious the dynamic in the Wards just didn't work with Sophia. She had designs on being a leader, possibly more, and the others just didn't, even couldn't, respect her.

So she'd be put in a different team in a different city, traded out for another cape. Arranging for jobs for her parents would go hand in hand with the transfer, but it was a small price to pay for the morale boost. Dennis hadn't put it quite so, ah, diplomatically. Missy had ended up covering her ears and humming loudly right up until the male teen's beeper had gone off with a vengeance. Resulting in, as he put it, the chewing out of the century from _several_ of the more senior Protectorate members on what was and was not appropriate to talk to non-Wards about.

He hadn't visited as much after that. She'd been in here nearly two weeks while they tried to figure out what to do with her and her father. Ostensibly for 'medical reasons', which is why she was still in here. As she sighed, reaching for the tablet again, the door opened. Stepping through was the last cape she'd expected to visit her... Again, at least. Aegis, leader of the Wards. He glanced over at her father, still snoozing in the corner, then back to her. "Fancy a hot chocolate?"

* * *

_Relocate..._

* * *

They sat in a small cafeteria-like area, Taylor in her hospital gown with Aegis' jacket on. He'd noticed she was cold, and had pointed out that he didn't actually need it after she'd tried to protest the loan. He was, in fact, in civilian clothes apart from the mask. "Staying kinda late." She nursed a hot drink, letting the warmth flow through her hands and trying to ignore the quiet susurrus of words that were coming with it.

"Paperwork." That caused her to glance over at him, quirking an eyebrow. He had decency to look embarrassed, at least. "It's not normal for a Ward." She weaseled that admission out of him fairly easily. Excellent. "I'm the leader, though. We don't have huge forms to fill out, but I'm going to be moving into the Protectorate relatively soon. So I'm, uh, trying to learn the systems." Made sense. They sat in awkward silence, perpendicular to each other at the square table but staring into their drinks.

Eventually, he broke the quiet. "You're not going to join the Wards." It wasn't a question, so she didn't bother obfuscating. "No. Sorry." Aegis shrugged, looking away from her. "It's... I don't blame you. What with Sha-" Even though he couldn't see, Taylor was already shaking her head before she interrupted him. "Wait. It's not about that. Well, not entirely about that. I've got nothing against the rest of you. I just..."

There was another long moment of silence as they sat there, Taylor trying to organize her thoughts and Aegis feeling just generally awkward; By the looks of him, anyway. "I just... I have this feeling... Or maybe it's an ideal, I think? I see the Wards and the Protectorate and try to hold them up to this sense that I have and it just doesn't match up. There's a lack of _**[Justice]**_ inherent in them that I just can't reconcile..." Unnoticed to the female parahuman, there was a ringing in the air like the peal of a crystalline bell.

When she glanced back up from her hot chocolate, Aegis was staring at her like she'd grown a second head. "D-did I insult you? I'm sorry, but... That's just how I feel..." Slowly, he shook his head, still sitting there with mouth agape. "Could you... Say that... Again?" Taylor's turn to look confused. "Sorry?" This time the head shaking was rather violent. "No! What you said about... Justice." She tilted her head at him, frowning. "I mean... What do you mean by that?"

The girl sighed, sipping her hot chocolate before leaning on forward on to her hands. "What do I mean... All of this, all the cape stuff... It's a game. Cops and robbers on a grand scale. The dangerous ones, you take special measures for, but in the end bad people do bad things and get away with it because it's better than the alternative because the alternative is the Slaughterhouse Nine and Nilbog and the Endbringers. But it's not... Right. And I have no idea what the right way is, yet, so don't bother asking me that. All I know is that this won't help."

* * *

_... _[Justice]_ ..._

* * *

Carlos shivered against the chill air, despite his biology having already rewired itself to accommodate the cold. The discussion with Taylor hadn't gone any further, really, beyond telling her about some options she had beyond the Wards. Supporting Rogues was Protectorate policy, even if priority was put on recruiting them if possible and, of course, putting them away if they turned out be a threat. Would she end up that way?

There had been something in her, though. It was a fire that he'd only seen on a handful of other capes. Miss Militia was one, certainly, but he'd also seen it somewhere else. There were very few images of Hero outside of him fighting, even less without his mask on, but the Protectorate's Archives had some that he'd looked up once. That man, the quintessential heroic cape, had possessed the exact same light burning in his eyes as Taylor had.

Then there was that voice... She'd said something, at some point, and for a second he'd sworn she'd randomly lapsed into Español. There had been a moment of absolute clarity for him then, as he'd understood what she'd meant even before she'd actually explained. Justice, huh... The young leader of the Wards shook his head, frowning. Taylor had Master powers, sure, but they only extended to insects. So... What had that been? He didn't think it had any influence on his thought patterns. If anything, in that one moment he'd felt like a Thinker.

He had received a shining, burning comprehension of the essence of Justice. Now he might never look at what he was doing the same way again. Because she was right. They played to catch the bad guys and send them away, the bad guys went off and got rescued or broke free, and everyone dropped everything to go after the truly bad ones. Occasionally someone broke the rules and identities were found out, and then things happened like what happened to Taylor.

Then what, though... Well, and as he thought this Carlos frowned, everyone took umbrage to that. But not Taylor. The papers were practically crucifying her, something she had to know about given she had internet access, and Base Earth had gone uncharacteristically silent since the bombing. Whether or not her mother had actually been a member, something that hadn't quite been proven given the circumstances of the blast in which she'd perished, that didn't matter to the media.

Worse still, the thought that someone on their team might have been the one to oust her. At first he thought of Sophia, of course, but that made no sense whatsoever... Because Sophia Hess had been in the med bay under direct supervision when the news had been released. It had spread quickly enough to result in someone locating and attacking her home, going out before Taylor had even returned to dry land.

Carlos shook himself out of the funk, waving to the guard as he stepped out of the elevator and on to the steel wharf built into the base of the oil rig. There was a boat waiting for him, and the night was a nasty one. Heavy rain, rough seas. Unpleasant all around, but he could see the lights of a car awaken on the shoreline as the PRT guard radioed across. He considered that as well, not for the first time. The PRT and the Protectorate were close to merged, at least in the Bay, due to the actions of that activist group. Now this...

They'd been relatively quiet, lately. Everyone had. It was like the lull before the storm. Last week they'd fought the Undersiders at a bank job, and that had gone... Poorly. They hadn't made away with very much, but the bank itself had been trashed and all evidence pointed to it being a Tinker-made bomb. The implications of a potential alliance between the seemingly minor gang of hooligans and the ABB was grating, especially given the latter's rising tensions with both Empire Eighty-Eight and the Merchants... Who had, themselves, been sporting new guns lately. Fancy guns.

Expensive guns. Which they hadn't sold to one of the other gangs for a quick buck, like they would usually do when they got their hands on something nice. Instead they were using them to expand; Recently they'd recruited Trainwreck, which wasn't fun. A Trump/Changer, minor Breaker, with a focus on mechanisms, who they'd almost statted up as a Tinker before they'd figured out that his deal was, in some respects, almost worse. His biology was mechanical in its entirety, and he could incorporate anything mechanical into his body. At least, thankfully, it was specifically mechanisms instead of electrical items. That would have been a pain.

Admittedly, as Kid Win had put it, that just made him a 'Steampunk Cyborg' instead of a 'Cyberpunk Cyborg'. Carlos' gut still ached slightly where he'd taken a cannon round last week, shoving one of his younger teammates aside in the process. The gangs were getting more violent, more dangerous, more active and the Protectorate knew where they lived, at least in the case of the Merchants, so why didn't they do anything about it?

He almost found himself longing to be part of Taylor's Justice before cursing quietly again, the boat's motor keeping it from being noticed. Maybe she did have some Master ability after all. Or maybe he was just that idealistic, still. No, her way was as dangerous as the fire in her eyes. Carlos sighed, staring off into the stormy night. She was going to get burned, that girl. He hoped he didn't have to watch when it happened.

* * *

_Like a whip across the soul..._

* * *

As Taylor sat silently in the cafeteria, finishing her lukewarm chocolate, she pondered what she'd said to Aegis. Why she'd said it. Was it true? She'd really spoken without thinking and yet, the more she did think about it, it felt... True. Right. Taylor wanted to change things, something that wouldn't happen within the Wards or the Protectorate. They were good people, for the most part, she amended while thinking of Sophia, who just wanted to maintain the status quo because that was... Safe. Whereas if she went through with what she was thinking about going through with...

People were going to get hurt. Probably innocent people. They were hurting now, though. A light Endbringer attack was one that didn't clear five digits of casualties, practically unheard of. The Slaughterhouse Nine killed capes left, right and center; Corrupting many of those they didn't outright destroy. Nilbog sat in his little fiefdom, practically legitimized as king of his own little world until he eventually decided to go a-wandering. Heartbreaker practically ruled Montreal and was raping his way to an army of loyal capes. The Yangban imprisoned, broke and enslaved capes daily. Moord Nag owned Namibia, and she'd almost thrown up on reading more about that monstrosity.

This was all... Tolerated. Because it was far away, or didn't happen here, or because it was safer than fighting them or blah blah blah. It irked her. More than that, it set her blood ablaze. That whole mindset of "somebody else's problem" had caused so much trouble in her life. Her mother... The bullying... Almost her father.

Well, that was it then. Step one, the Bay. Step two, the United States. Step three, the world. It was stupid and idealistic and ambitious and she was going to get herself killed. Dad was going to hate her, if he found out what she was planning. She had to do something about him... As far as she knew nobody knew what he looked like, though, and the dockworkers would definitely stand up for him if it came to it. Even then, he wouldn't be safe in Brockton Bay.

She needed to talk to him. Right now. Taylor finished her drink and left the cup there, slinking out of the cafeteria and almost walking into a PRT guard. He nodded to her, gesturing to follow. Of course she wouldn't be left to wander around alone. It wasn't until she'd reached her room, though, that she realized she still had Aegis' jacket on. Embarrassed, she took it off and handed it over to the guard; Asking if he could drop it off in the Ward's room for her. With a faint smile on his face, he agreed and wished her a good night.

There was a flash. Light. Sound. Steel. Iron. Carbon. Cotton. Cellulose. Glucose. Hydrogen. Oxygen. Bed. Rest. Sleep. Observation. Sound. Knowledge. Transmission. Looking around, Taylor found the source of the piercing tinny sound that was

_[Observation]__._ It sounded a glossy silver colour to the insects, her mental map pointing her to the exact location. There. The sound was traced by the bugs in her mindscape until she found the other end. Security room, one guard, sleeping. She felt a bug land, tracing over the buttons one by one. Couldn't tell which screen focused on what.

Ignorant to what she was doing or how she was doing it, Taylor focused for a moment. Within the item marked by _[Observation]_ she found the evidence of [Record]. Muttering to herself, that evidence was twisted from_[Record]__ to __**[Reject]**__._ Panting heavily, she collapsed on to the bed. It felt like she'd just torn a door out of its frame with her bare hands, then installed a new one in its place without tools.

What... What had she just done? Taylor had no clue, except that she was now certain that the room's surveillance system was no longer saving what it recorded. Somehow. Frowning, shivering, she shook her father awake. He took one look at her and felt her forehead, the sharp intake of breath showing his concern. "Taylor, you're cold as ice!" Strange, she felt hot. In fact, she was sweating like a pig. "Sorry... Hold on." She shifted back into the bed, watching her dad's expression transform from worried to amused as she bundled herself up in all of the covers she could grasp.

There was a moment of shared mirth there as he laughed, despite the undercurrent of concern. "I was just talking with one of the Wards, and hadn't realized how cold it was. I'm fine, really." Perhaps not entirely convinced, Danny nodded at her and Taylor turned red again, the second time that evening. Or possibly third, actually…

"So… You wanted to talk about something, obviously? Or maybe you're trying to tell me to go find a real bed?" Although his tone was joking, at least somewhat, she could tell that he had seen her serious expression when she'd first roused him. "Well, that too." She smiled at him, and felt relieved for a moment. It was easier to forget the potential seriousness of the situation when things with her dad were just the same as they ever were. Better, even.

One of the first things they'd spoken about when she'd woken up was school. Well, no, that was fairly unfair to her father. The first things they'd truly spoken of were really just one thing over and over. He'd been forever hugging her and crying and saying how he thought he'd lost her forever and frankly it was all terribly embarrassing and absolutely wonderful. She couldn't even try to be stoic under the weight of that love; didn't even bother trying, even.

But once it had eventually been established that she was, in fact, fine and they'd discussed what had happened in fits and starts and they'd both managed to stop sobbing at each other, well, school _had _come up. Namely that he'd been called out from work to go down to the school to see the principal about her, only she hadn't been there. Then she hadn't been at home, either. Miraculous recovery or not, she was quite definitively grounded forever. Taylor was at least a little confident that was mostly a nervous joke on his part.

In the end the bullying had come out, a full explanation of everything as she understood it and how much things had changed for her since Annette had, well, _ahem_ and she could read the fury on his face as she explained. It had alternated between rage at her for not telling him to rage at Emma for being so callous and, finally, rage at himself for not realizing how bad things had been.

Which had neatly laid the groundwork for this, the topic they'd been avoiding for the past week. "You… We… We can't stay in the Bay, dad." He nodded, not bothering to try to disagree. There was no argument there, not really. It all came down to her mother, in the end. Annette Rose Hebert. They'd never really talked about that, either… and today definitely wouldn't be when they started.

Taylor took after her father more than her mother, in many ways, although in terms of looks they were apparently similar. She didn't see it as much as Danny did, though. Annette had been more outgoing, better with people; Part and parcel with being a teacher, she supposed. Mom had always been a very busy person, trying to help out a lot of people with all sorts of things. Neither Taylor nor her father had ever imagined her as a terrorist.

That's exactly how she was being portrayed, though. Because she'd been present at ground zero of a bombing on a Protectorate News Conference. Because forensic evidence had indicated that, in fact, she had been ground zero. Because shortly afterwards, The Base Earth had claimed responsibility for the attack and claimed it had been 'an act of martyrdom'. Name suppression had been involved at the time, protecting Danny and Taylor.

Yet, the person who leaked it had known. Then, as the news began to spread, someone else had leaked to. Their confidentiality had been breached. Heads would roll, certainly, but that did them no good. He hadn't mentioned it yet, thinking his daughter had been asleep, but she'd heard Danny on the phone the other day. The union would stand behind him; of course they would, individually… they were his friends, regardless of anything else. As an organization, though, they'd been forced to 'let him go'.

He hadn't been bitter about that. That would have made it worse for whoever was talking to him, of that she was certain. If her father had gotten mad, kicked up a fuss, it would have been easier to get mad in kind and dismiss him. He'd been reasonable, though, because it was reasonable. Danny understood perfectly, even said that it was good they'd called because he'd wanted to let them know he'd be leaving anyhow.

He shattered her reverie by repeating something, because obviously she'd not responded the first time. It was startling for her to think that she'd zoned out so completely. "I said, I know we can't, Taylor. Someone from the Justice Department came by to speak to me the other day about being put in witness protection. Normally it wouldn't quite qualify, given Annette's trial was…" Posthumous, and over with already. She'd been declared guilty in absence, as it were, of any defence.

"But they're going to do it anyway." He nodded. It did make sense, at least to Taylor. While they weren't overly important, the Protectorate had a reason to avoid having them lynched on Bay Street one day. The bad publicity alone would be enough; the fact that it might encourage her to go all 'Carrie' and become a villain would likely be a secondary concern as well. She could deal with that, except…

Except she couldn't. "Dad... I know this is going to sound crazy to you, and maybe it is, but… I need… I _have_ to stay. There's something here that I need to do." Before he could protest, Taylor raised her hand and speared him in place with a look of startling intensity. "I died, dad. Actually, properly died. Then I saw… something. Even now, I'm not entirely sure what it was except that it had verifiable information in it that I didn't know beforehand." He looked fairly confused by that statement, but still didn't interrupt.

"The Bay… It's just the beginning. Everything that's here… The ABB, E88, the Merchants… We've stopped trying to stop them and started trying to deal with them, Dad. You know where I'm coming from with this." Danny did. Those were practically his words, after all. He was often talking with his friends about how sad a state the city was in, particularly in relation to how accepting they were of the gangs in general.

She nodded as the memories shone across his face. "I need to be here, dad. I don't know if I can change anything, but I have to try. If nobody is willing to fight this… this _**[Injustice]**_ then nothing will ever be different." Once more, she didn't notice the sonorous hum in the air at her own word; One that caused Danny to straighten up suddenly and stare at her as he paled suddenly. It took a few more minutes of staring, him dumbstruck and her nervously expectant, before he could coherently align his thoughts.

"Taylor…" And then a long sigh. "I'm not happy. Messing with the status quo got you killed once and that nearly killed me too. But it feels like the only choices I have are whether or not I get to worry because I know what you're doing, or because I don't. That doesn't make me happy." She turned her head, shamefaced; yet determined. Danny could only sigh again. "This is really important to you, huh…"

A single, rapid nod from Taylor ensued. "It's about _**[Equity]**_, and _**[Duty]**_." More ringing words that unknowingly chilled Danny to his very core. He didn't understand what was happening there any more than Taylor was cognizant of her own speech, at this point. Yet, every time it happened he grew paler as the intense meaning of those words flowed into his mind without much input from his brain in the process. "I can do something to make a difference… so I have to. If I didn't, then I couldn't live with myself."

* * *

_Concerns…_

* * *

That hadn't been the end of it. The rest of the night was spent in Taylor and Danny haggling back and forth on the specifics of what she'd be doing. After several attempts to convince her that she needed to join the Wards, he eventually relented when more strange statements began to pound comprehension of her _**[Resolve]**_ into him. He would move cities, and she was going to transfer to Arcadia.

Those above weren't entirely happy, but Taylor suggested that part of the reason she wanted to stay was gratitude. Although she had announced that she wouldn't be joining the Wards, it didn't take long to set her up as a private contractor to the Protectorate under designation as a minor Tinker. The specifics were simple; She was going to be providing costumes, first to the Wards and then to the Protectorate itself. When they tried to argue for the other way round she turned it back on them, saying that she owed the most gratitude to the teens for their treatment of her in the wake of the attack.

Her father was notably silent when she saw him off. They'd purchased cheap cellphones, the lack of which had been related to a spate of cyber-bullying as well as tight family funds, and sworn to keep in contact. She had a bank account of her very own set up, and he'd given her money to live off until she got her first advance from the Protectorate. When she'd tried to insist that she'd pay him back as soon as that happened, he'd just hugged her.

Taylor was going to miss him.

* * *

_In word and deed…_

* * *

She was cleared to leave the day after her dad did, albeit after a few minor alterations. Mostly involving hair and eyes; specifically, lightening both of them. Now she didn't even recognize herself in the mirror, which meant nobody else would. It was even more than the colour changes, though. The girl in the mirror looked more fit than Taylor had thought she was, although less fit than she'd been before a week straight of almost exclusive bed rest.

Most of all, she looked confident. Taylor looked confident. That rather startled her, staring wide-eyed at her own stance. Back straight, shoulders held firm, meeting her own gaze even with her surprise. Glancing down, she saw her own hands at her sides. They were half-clenched right now and she forced herself to relax them. Why was she so tense? "Wow, Taylor, you look great!" That was from Missy, standing to one side.

Despite a few complaints here and there, there was no real reason to deny them any right to see her. Dennis was, well, himself and would probably never change in that regard; so, while they weren't exactly 'close', he was still friendly. But Missy was a different story, and a rather happy one at that. It wasn't hard to notice that there weren't many, or, in fact, any, girls on the Wards team apart from Shadow Stalker; who was not only being transferred away but also, at least according to Dennis, didn't actually count as a 'girl'.

That was a teensy bit mean, maybe, but she still couldn't help but giggle when he'd said that. "Thank you, Missy… I'm not used to being a blonde. Or having blue eyes. It feels weird." She earned a giggle from her new, currently only, friend. "Well, you look great. Shall we then?" Taylor nodded, pulling away from the mirror and out of the bathroom. It was hard not to blink too often, with the coloured contacts in. They weren't too bad, actually, which surprised her a fair bit.

The two of them made their way out of the bathroom and down the hall, trailed by a pair of PRT officers. They would handle security inside the headquarters, at the very least, but giving them an actual escort beyond that would be far too conspicuous. Besides, she was moving out today. After this, the PRT and the Protectorate owed her no further obligations. Piggot had made that perfectly clear to her.

From there, the journey across the water was fairly smooth. It was a pretty nice day, all in all. A plainclothes officer had met them at the oil rig's dock, to help carry Taylor's stuff. That was kind. In fact, she was fairly sure she recognized him. "Fred, right?" A grinning nod. "Right y'are, miss. Just so happens I, ah, have th' day off. Just came in t'pick up one o' two bits an' bobs from my locker. An', as it just so happens, I thought I might just pick up this heavy box here an' carry it into town. No rules 'gainst that."

His peculiar manner caused her to chuckle. Only a little, though. "Well, thank you Fred. That's very kind of you." He shrugged off the compliment with a literal shrug, stepping on to the boat. "Not a problem. As it just so happens, y'remind me o' my own daughter a tad, may she rest in peace." No further comment was needed. These days, it was hard to find anyone who hadn't lost someone in their family somehow. She vaguely recalled the guard chatting with her father about such things, usually when she was asleep though.

"Fred's way too nice for his own good." Taylor shifted in her seat, looking over to Missy. "Oh?" The younger girl turned to face their escort, frowning slightly. "He swapped from the police force to the PRT after his daughter… Well… But now he's stuck on guard duty at Headquarters because his leg was smashed in a fight with Empire Eighty-Eight." That bit at her a bit, yet only strengthened her resolve.

A man who'd lost a daughter, trying to seek _**[Justice]**_ and being crippled for it. Missy poked her side without warning, snapping her out of the brief gloom. "Did you hear something just now? I could have sworn I heard something…" A shake of the head from Taylor. "No, nothing." Bit of an odd question. She could barely hear Missy over the engine, let alone anything else.

Arriving at the other end, getting into a car and driving to Taylor's apartment block was fairly uneventful. Beyond one or two incidents of standard road rage, of course, but that was to be expected. She thought suddenly of her father, as she watched the city go by through the window, and reminded herself to call him once she'd settled in. They'd spoken on the phone last night as well, and hearing his concern shine through his words had almost made her give up on her plan entirely.

"Not very talkative today." It wasn't hard to detect a tone in Missy's voice similar to the one that had been rife in Danny's. "Sorry. Just a bit nervous about all this, I guess." Her companion smiled, obviously relieved. "That's normal. I felt like that when I joined the Wards. But you'll have friends at Arcadia, right? Dennis and I, and the others too, don't mingle at school, for obvious reasons, but there's no reason I can't hang out with you. I mean, unless you'd rather not because I'm just a kid."

There was no other recourse. Taylor leaned over and flicked Missy in the forehead, prompting a wince, a whimper and a squeak of fright. Not quite in that order, though. "Ow! Hey…" But she got the idea pretty quickly. "Missy, I would love to hang out with you. I can honestly say I'd almost forgotten what it was like to have actual friends, so I'm very glad that you were the one to wander into the break room without your mask on." Otherwise they probably wouldn't have been able to become friends at all.

The car pulled to a stop outside the apartment complex. It was fairly basic, and rent was comparatively cheap. Which meant it would still stretch the budget she had until her first orders came through. "Thanks, both of you, but I can manage from here. I appreciate the help, though." She got a hug from Missy, a brief and slightly awkward pat on the head from Fred and a request that she take care from herself. Along with something slipped into her box of stuff before she handed it over.

It wasn't very heavy, though, more cumbersome. The clothes that had been salvageable from the house, a family photo without a frame, and some similar personal effects. Their entire home had consumed by flames, really. At least the insurance money would help her dad a bit. Trying to avoid stumbling under the load, she waved goodbye to Missy as the car pulled off before wandering inside and bumping straight into someone beside the mailboxes.

Well, that was embarrassing. She half-toppled, letting go of the box in the process of falling; only for it to be caught by the person she'd bumped into. "Sorry! Oh, thank you." He grinned at her, and she was briefly startled by how bright his smile was. That might have just been the contrast with his dark skin, though. "No harm done. You're new to the building, huh?" The boy, young man, rather, put the box down and offered her a hand up. "Um… Yes. My father's had to move, for work, but he didn't want me to change schools. So I'm living alone for a while."

His hand was quite warm. The flow of her thoughts diverted around him for a moment, however; a curious chill spreading through her before she broke off contact and brushed herself down. "Thank you, again. I'm…" Wait, what was her name again? Oh, damn, damn, daaaa-… Wait. Urgh. "Amanda. You can call me Mandy, though, if you like." He picked the box up again, before she could reach for it.

"Nice to meet you, Mandy. I'm Brian. What floor are you on?" Let's see, she was on… "Second?" His grin grew slightly, causing her to blush. Just a little. "Well, that's convenient. I'll walk you up, since you're on my floor." That was kind of him, she supposed. Her recovered self-esteem was slightly damaged by this, though, as it automatically attributed the attention to her new look. "Thank you, Brian." Fully taking him in for the first time, she examined this young man a bit more closely.

Dark skin, nice hair, muscular build and, given what she'd seen, a decent personality as well. This was all strangely familiar to her, though. His clothes were typical exercise fare, with a plain t-shirt and shorts. "Off for a run?" Brian raised an eyebrow at her as they moved up the stairs. "Yeah, actually." That she'd delayed him remained unsaid, at least on his part. "I'm sorry for stopping you." She managed to crack Brian's visage of easy confidence and let out some distinct amusement as a result.

"You apologize a lot, given that none of the things you apologized for are actually your fault." Further blushing ensued. That was highly embarrassing. "I… ah… yeah, I guess I do. Probably ought to stop that." Brian shook his head. "It's endearing." Decided to immediately redirect the conversation, Taylor switched to the first thing she could think of. "You run a lot?" He nodded. "Most mornings, yeah. It helps me limber up for work, but I tend to keep it up even when I'm not on a job."

That reminded her that she really needed to start up again. "I should really get back into it." Ah, they'd arrived at the second floor. "You run? It hardly looks like you need it." The appraising look he gave her was, well, undeniably gratifying. "That's really why I do it. Do you know a good route around here? Normally I got along the boardwalk, but I'm not quite sure about this area." Brian was thoughtful for a moment as she stopped, gesturing to a door. "Why don't you come with me tomorrow? I'm not going to be in any real hurry."

That was curious. He'd mentioned work earlier, so she was fairly certain he didn't go to school. "What about your job?" Brian put her box down, leaning against the wall for a moment as she tried to find the key they'd given her. "Contract construction work. It's a bit on and off. Right now, it's off." Something about that bugged at her, but then she got the door. "Okay then. Thank you, Brian." He was already handing her box to her when she turned back. "Cheers. Be warned, though, I wake up bright and early."

With a warm smile he waved goodbye as she slipped through the door and into her new home. Sitting the box down, she leaned against the door and took a few deep breaths. That hadn't felt in character for her at all. Since when was she that confident talking to an admittedly very handsome guy? Eurgh. Forget about it for now. First thing to do, inaugurate her new home with a tasty breakfast.

After what turned out to be a fairly basic meal, someone having stocked the fridge with the essentials before she arrived, Taylor took to unpacking her box of stuff. Clothes went into the closet, the pictures were hidden in a book and slipped into her bedside table, and… uh… huh. She was fairly sure that she hadn't owned a collapsible police baton. A smile graced her mouth as she realized it was PRT issue. Fred's doing, most likely, given she'd thought he'd slipped something in there before handing it over. Having people care about her, even a little, was quite nice. Apart from Danny, that is.

* * *

_**[Construction]**…_

* * *

_[Material] [Wood] [Cellulose]_

_[Glucose] [Carbon] [Hydrogen] [Oxygen]_

_[Shape] [Box] [Door] [Transition]_

_[Nature] [Shelter] [House] [Home]_

_[Structure] [Solid] [Firm] [Stable]_

_[Requirement] [Defence] [Strengthen]_

_[Shape] [Box] [Door] [Bind]_

_[Wood] **[Harden] [Lead]** [Alloy]_

_**[Tungsten] [Incorporate]** [Error] [Weight]_

_[Density] [Increase] [Gravity] [Factor]_

_**[Divisor] [Application]** [Weight] [Reduction]_

**_[Block] [Seal] [Foresight] [Barrier]_**

_[Seal] [Complete]_

_**[Seek]** **[Weapon] **_

_[Metal] [Steel] [Iron] [Carbon]_

_[Shape] [Weapon] [History] [Defence]_

_[Nature] [Harm] [Pain] [Protect]_

_[Structure] [Solid] [Firm] [Mobile]_

**_[Adjust] [Manipulate] [Shape]_**

_[Obstruction] [Memory]_

_Agreement? _

_Destination. Course? _

_Agreement._

_**[Return]** [Shape] [Weapon] [Offence]_

_[Short] **[Long]** [Dull] **[Sharp]**_

_[Metal] [Steel] [Iron] [Carbon]_

_[Steel] **[Titanium]**_

**_[Alloy] [Strengthen]_**

_**[Purpose]** [Bludgeon] [Defective]_

_**[Define] [Sharpness]** [Requirement] **[Implement]**_

_[Sharpness] [Maximum] [Insufficient] **[Increase]**_

_[Error] [Laws] **[Exception] [Create]**_

_**[Exception] [Bind]** [Completion]_

_[Weapon]_

**_[Lancae]_**

Taylor's eyes snapped open as she sat up in bed. Violently, in fact, tossing her covers aside as sweat drenched her. Something was… wrong… uh… okay then. She was staring blankly at her own room, slowly sliding out of the simple bed and squeaking loudly as her feet touched the cold floor. When she'd come in the place had seemed rather homely. Short carpet, minor furnishings, basic kitchen… homely was the word she was choosing to use.

Now, though? Her walls were made of metal. Oh, so were her floors. Not to mention the ceiling. Taylor could make out glowing red symbols etched into the walls that, even as she tried to commit them to memory, faded into darkness. Breathing slowly, not trusting herself to do anything else, she pulled her covers around her for warmth and gingerly stood up. Gah, it was cold!

Nervously, she made her way to her door, also metal, and pushed it open. The effect permeated halfway through both the door and wall, leading her to touch the halfway point. It melded from wood to grey metal seamlessly, the colour gradually changing over about an inch of material. How… why… The confusion was palpable. Which is when her eyes shifted away, as if magnetically drawn, to fall upon her kitchen table.

* * *

_Please allow me to introduce myself..._

* * *

"_**There's a saying in this place that I've often wanted to understand. Tell me, do you know it?"**_

_She shook her head, vision bleary. The motion was unrelated to the question posed. Her team... Who was talking to her? There was an aching pain in her side. The job... They'd been attacked. Ambushed. Bile welled up in her throat and hands came to her, holding her steady and allowing it to pass._

"_**I do apologize. This might not be the best time for the discussion, but it's the only time I have. Rest assured, your people are fine. All of them. Although I cannnot say the same for your assailants. Restraint never was one of my strong points."**_

_Restraint? She couldn't see. Why couldn't she see? The voice was all there was right now, the only sound; permeating the dense fog around her head. No, within her head. It was crisp and clear, yet also somehow echoed. That made no sense. She was delirious. Last thing she remembered was taking out a wall..._

"_**They say... That possession is nine-tenths of the law. Why is that, do you think? It's not written anywhere. Take, for example, this fellow here. I possess nine-tenths of him. Does that make him my property, now?"**_

_Nine tenths... What was this thing on about? Her eyes managed to work long enough to present her with a partial visage. She was collapsed n a huge chair, some person in a doctor's mask tending a wound to her arm, or possibly side. There was, partially in shadow, a hulking shape. It moved, black cloth over grey flesh coming into sight as It held out a torso, devoid of limbs. Bile rose again, the doctor-like figure helping holding back her dark, frizzy hair as she found the strength to vomit._

"_**Tsk, tsk. He was trying to kill you. Or worse. You ought to have known this job was a trap. Ah, but you did... and in learning so you assumed you could turn it back on them. A pity, you showed such potential. Still do, of course, but it is significantly lessened..."**_

_A rage rose in her as that statement passed over hidden lips, one she couldn't vocalize for lack of energy. Yet a placating hand was held forth, claw-like fingers spread out in a gesture of supposed peace._

"_**Be still, mercenary. For you are here to listen to me wax philosophical on a number. Ten, to be exact. It fascinates me, how people assign meaning to numbers. Three, seven, thirteen... And, of course, nine. Why are these so much more important than ten? You possess ten primary digits, after all, and ten secondary. We divide things into tenths, at least in the truly civilized countries. Ah, but I allow my prejudices to shine through. How dreadful of me."**_

_The shape stood, somehow carrying the shadows with it. Or was it, perhaps, that her vision wavered when it came to it. Yet, when it emerged suddenly from the shadows, she was truly startled. Its visage was beyond description, even for her. Another one of..._

_**"Now, given your work with the five-threes, I must realize what this looks like. You are wrong, of course. I am, much to my dismay, a mere ninth. Not a tenth. That would be more fun to me. Alas, we cannot have what we want at all times, can we? Auspicious it is, then, that I can give you what you want... In the fullness of time, that is."**_

_What she wanted... what they wanted... this thing could grant it? For if it wasn't a Case Fifty-Three then what was it? To look so... Simple words failed her. To call it terrifying did it no justice, since she wasn't scared. It was more the sensation one would get from staring at a wall of ice ten thousand feet tall, sliding towards you at an almost immeasurably slow rate. The sense you would get would not be fear, but rather... Inevitability._

"_**So then, my question is thus; If those are nine-tenths, what is tenth number ten? Ah, my own arc word. Or is it arc number? I never read enough on it. It is often dismissed; forgotten, proved only by its exception, a corollary to the greater rule. But enough regard for that triviality, my dear mercenary, for I wish to share my rumination with you."**_

_For such a beast, he spoke like a dictionary. No, more like a thesaurus. She could practically see him selecting fancier words as he spoke. The mental image conjured up made her laugh, in spite of her pain and exhaustion._

"_**Too much, then? I will be simple as I can be. The difference between nine-tenths and the last tenth is as great as the difference betwixt heaven and earth, night and day, legal and lawful. It is, to state in basic terms, recognition. One can own the world, but without that last ten percent then what is the point? I bring this up because of you, dear mercenary, and those pathetic things who follow you!"**_

_His glee, combined with his manner, her apparent imprisonment and the rage at his belittlement of those she held dear fueled her next action. Launching herself forward, forgetting that her power would not work against him, her hand pressed to his torso. To her absolute surprise, her total astonishment, the power fired even when it should not have. She expected to see a hole through his torso with dust pouring out. Instead, he just looked down._

"_**A curious ability. You shattered the bonds between my molecules? I had not realized it worked in such a straightforward way. A shame that such tricks will not inconvenience me, but my expectations for you just rose ever higher! For, you see, you and yours are truly pathetic... although not through fault of your own. Right now, you are all naught but one-tenths. Specifically, the wrong one-tenths."**_

_Her power had worked. He had seemed surprised. She collapsed back, in blatant shock, as the maybe-doctor frantically removed her bandages to redo her stitches. That barely warranted her notice, however. He should be dead. More than dead, he ought to be little save a pile of meat; yet he was, at this very moment, grinning at her. He could not stop grinning._

"_**You are one-tenth of who you were. All of you. Even you, who did not lose who you were, have faded. This endless drive has consumed you with your focus not on the purpose, but the path. You must forget the how and reclaim the why, dear mercenary. You must become, instead, a tenth of what you will be. Remain as such, ever seeking your other ninety percent. Only then will you find answers."**_

_She stared at him, frowning. Why did his words have such a seductive tone to them? He was advocating no less than their empowerment, so it made sense for them to feel effective, yet she had no reason to trust him._

"_**When you return to the Bay, keep an eye out for something... Different. You'll want to find her. She has what you need. Some whose values clash with my own have been interfering; however, I will overlook it in this case. For a group of canonised lickspittles, they chose well... just this once."**_

_For some reason, her mind chose to focus on the strangest part of that statement. What did saints have to do with this?_

"_**Your Shaker will notice it first. Pay attention to her ravings in the coming days. And I, one 'Mister Black', for now at least, shall be in touch."**_

* * *

_Memories..._

* * *

Faultline awoke suddenly, to the onset of splitting head pain as her forehead impacted her desk. She'd dozed off at it. Again. This was truly getting out of hand. That dream, again, of their disastrous mission to recover a new member that had _somehow_ not resulted in any fatalities. Although they'd lost the 'member', who'd turned out to be some sort of plant. Both figuratively and literally. Damn Tinkers. Gaining Spitfire had made up for it, at least. She checked her current mask and pony-tail were still in place, looking around the room once more to orient herself.

Then the knocking on the door came again. It opened a moment later to reveal a worried looking Gregor, although that was one of his two standard expressions alongside 'gloomy' so she wasn't _too _worried. "Ma'am. I heard a sound after I knocked, and worried for your safety." She smiled behind the mask, a bulky, blocky welder's helmet that she was already planning to do away with. He was always a sweetheart, even if he got treated poorly by others at times. "I'm fine, Gregor. What is it?"

The bulbous man shifted, nerves plain on his face as he did so despite the protrusions that somewhat disguised his expressions. "There is a strange man asking for you. And shortly before he showed up, Elle had an... Episode. This was a particularly bad one." She stood, cursing as she did so, and immediately made for the door. "Of all the... Escort him up here and keep an eye on him, I'll go see to her. He can wait." Gregor nodded, his relief palpable. She'd never put business before her crew. Ever.

"Very good, ma'am. I will inform Mister Black that you are currently engaged." She froze halfway out the door, turning to her employee and grasping his arms the very instant the shock faded. "That's what he said his name was! You're certain that's what he said?" Confusion apparent, he wasted no time in replying. "Y-yes, ma'am! Mister Black, said he was here about the upcoming meeting...?" Colour draining secretly out of her face, Faultline returned suddenly to her path. "Change of plans, Gregor. Send him up to Elle's room. At once."

He balked at the idea, of course. How could he not? "But ma'am, her-" His boss just shook her head at his concerns, though. "Trust me, he already knows. I've no idea if he's an ally or a threat, but either way... Send him straight up." The Case Fifty-Three turned properly pale, all the way through to his skin going nearly translucent for a moment. "Absolutely, ma'am. At once."

* * *

_And immediately there came out blood and water..._

* * *

Taylor Hebert stared at her kitchen table.

More specifically, she stared slightly above it.

Directly at the six-foot long, golden-grey spear floating just above it.


End file.
